


Stone and Dragonfire

by salience



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Female Merlin, Genderswap, Hurt/Comfort, Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-04-06 12:10:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 118,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19062412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salience/pseuds/salience
Summary: The story of Ablion's birth and of the people that helped it flourish.Destiny...with a twist.





	1. Season 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All rights to Merlin and its characters belong to BBC and Shine.
> 
> I've always loved the idea of fem Merlin and I've been lurking around this fandom for the better part of four years so it's about time I post something. I follow the seasons but the episodes aren't necessarily in chronological order because some of them just don't fit into this universe. Merlin knows a lot about magic so Kilgharrah doesn't make many appearances and serveral people find out about it.
> 
> Please excuse any errors, I don’t have a beta x

There was something to be said about grief and the shadow of misery it cast. A vindictive breeze slithered through the trees to lay whipped against her face. The salt of old tears tightened against her cheeks, sown by sorrow’s hand. Her eyes were parched and the dry sting refused to abate.

Hunith spent the journey sniffing pitifully for she too had cried herself dry. Of course, Merlin felt the loss of her father acutely, but Freya’s death weighed just as heavily. Her notion of normalcy had been obliterated. Loathe as she was about their impending destination there was nothing worth keeping in Caerleon. Staying at the estate was out of the question given the lives it stole. Merlin had to question her mother’s decision about Camelot, because really, why the hell would they go to the one kingdom that banned magic? 

She argued vehemently in favour of Mercia, but Merlin’s stubbornness came from her mother so the battle was lost early on. As if the atmosphere of anti-magic wasn’t enough, Merlin heard that the prince was the supposed golden child, but if the prince’s she had met were anything to go by, then this one would be just an entitled as the rest of them. Well, with the charming exception of the Prince of Wessex, he was actually quite the gentleman during his diplomatic visit to Caerleon.

After what had possibly been the most apprehensive week of her life, Merlin finally caught sight of Camelot’s turrets before they were being ushered through the gates and over the draw bridge. The men that Annis sent with them faded to the back as they entered the courtyard. Merlin had to resist the sneer that tried to leap forth at the sight of Uther and her magic churned unpleasantly, agitated. Prince Arthur stood to his right and the Lady Morgana to his left. Merlin suspected she would be pawned off to the king’s ward, which was better than being stuck with Arthur. 

“Lady Hunith, you are most welcome.” Merlin reluctantly dismounted and stepped up beside her mother, finally faced with the inevitable. They both curtseyed, though Merlin did so with thinly veiled disgust and the near indeterminate upwards twitch of Lady Morgana’s lip gave Merlin the tiniest shred of hope that perhaps she wouldn’t suffer this place alone. 

“Thank you, your majesty. Allow me to introduce my daughter, Merlin.” It took every shred of will power not to snatch her hand away when Uther grabbed it and dropped a polite kiss to her knuckles, she only just refrained from reeling back in repulsion. From the corner of her eye, she watched his ward dip her head to hide a smile.

\- - 

Arthur wasn’t entirely sure that the arrival of these courtiers was worth such fanfare, but his father deemed it necessary to have a banquet in their honour. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t Merlin. Long dark hair, high cheekbones and piercing eyes. He dared to say that she was beautiful and the defiant spark in her eye when Uther greeted her was something he had only ever seen in Morgana. 

Her smile was thin when his father kissed her hand and Morgana had the gall to snicker quietly at the sight, like she was overjoyed that another woman shared her sentiment.

_Arthur stabbed at his food and spoke around a mouthful of meat when he asked Uther about the herald from Queen Annis. Morgana scowled at him from across the table. “Gods, Arthur, could you be more repulsive?” He pulled a face at her._

_Uther didn’t look up from his own meal, accustomed to their bickering, but he did heave a put-upon sigh. “Dignitaries from Caerleon’s court, Annis regards them highly. Arthur, I expect you to accomodate the daughter."_

_“Father-“ Uther held up a hand to defuse the oncoming argument and Arthur grunted in annoyance and shovelled more food into his mouth, swallowing it down with a slosh of wine and enjoying the look of disgust on Morgana’s face. He hated entertaining courtiers, he’d yet to meet one that wasn’t insipid or empty-headed. Arthur had met his fair share of vapid women and he had half a mind to feign illness before the feast so that he wouldn’t have to suffer her tedious company._

_“I’d be more than happy to entertain her, she’s going through enough trauma without having to be harassed by this oaf as well.”_

_“Oi!” Morgana fluttered her lashes innocently but the quirk to her mouth said otherwise. Uther conceded and Arthur was relieved of his obligation. It only raised his hackles, Morgana never made his life easier which meant she was most definitely up to something._

Merlin brushed past him with little regard and he blinked stupidly, he had been prepared for overeager flattery and roaming hands, not total disregard. He turned to Morgana, who had an irritatingly smug look on her face as she quirked an eyebrow before retreating into the castle after Uther and Hunith. Arthur was left feeling like he had missed something important.

\- -

The idea of skipping the banquet flitted into her mind more times than she cared to count while she got ready. Merlin dismissed the maidservants that had been sent to her chambers, not ready to accept help that didn’t come from Freya. She stepped into the gown and let her magic tighten the laces that she couldn’t reach. Merlin sat by her vanity, skirts splayed out beside her and got to work on her hair. For as long as she could remember, magic worked better than any comb when it came to taming it down for events. It wasn’t messily wild, but it had always preferred to flow freely rather than be twisted and pinned.

Merlin watched her eyes flare gold in the mirror as her hair started arranging itself. Decorative braids pulled strays away from her face and held her hair back, toppling down her back in loose waves. She had always been pretty, the lascivious looks from the lords of Caerleon told her as much. Sighing resolutely and giving herself a once-over, Merlin left her chambers and met the knight escort waiting outside, following him through the castle towards the banquet hall. She waited patiently for the obnoxious herald to announce her.

“Lady Merlin of House Ambrosias.” The great doors beckoned her inside and she set her shoulders back, head high, aware of the curious and hungry eyes that followed her to her seat. Merlin was privately smug to see Arthur’s eyes glued to her, magnetised. Hunith was already seated besides the king and she sought the empty chair between Arthur and Morgana. Merlin wasn’t so blind as to deny Arthur’s good looks, but she’d heard enough gossip from Freya over the years to know that he was atrociously bad mannered to servants. So, not even remotely interested in the prince, she swivelled to her left.

“Lady Morgana, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Morgana waved her hand with a delighted grin as she lowered her goblet to the table. A servant slunk out of the shadows to fill Merlin’s cup and she thanked him, which earned her a very confused look and the poor boy tripped on his way back.

“None of that, call me Morgana, please.” Merlin beamed and dipped her head.

“Morgana it is.” They clinked their goblets together and took a swig, the pleasant bite of spiced wine familiar on her tongue. Merlin had a good feeling about Morgana, she was certainly beautiful, all sharp green eyes and bright smiles. Behind them, Arthur rolled his eyes, already preparing himself for a night of mindless nattering. Uther nudged him subtly without disengaging from his conversation with Hunith, Arthur let out a long suffering sigh and steeled himself.

He glowered at Morgana, knee bobbing impatiently as he waited for a lull in their conversation. Morgana bit back at smirk as she watched his face grow increasingly indignant at being ignored, before _finally_ relinquishing Merlin’s attention to him. The words died on his tongue when Merlin looked up at him through her lashes.

Her eyes sparkled in the candle light, pupils blown wide from the wine as a blush dusted the crest of her cheeks, flushed with alcohol. He didn’t even notice his lips had parted while he stared into her eyes-so blue-and could’ve sworn he’d seen tiny sparks of gold but they were gone as soon as they came so he put it down to his own intoxication. Merlin tilted her head curiously and Arthur blinked dumbly. “I’m, uh, I’m Prince Arthur.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” There was a teasing cadence to her voice that Arthur wasn’t used to and a knowing curve to her lips.

“Right…good.” Arthur buried his face in his drink as he turned away from Merlin, needing to escape her captivating gaze lest he make an even bigger arse of himself. He also had to get away from knowing squint of Morgana’s eyes and her all too self-satisfied smirk.

“Don’t mind him, Merlin, for all the brawn he has little brain.” Arthur choked on his drink and scarcely avoided spraying red wine all over the table in the process. “He’s also tragically pathetic with woman, so you’re welcome to ignore him.” Morgana’s voice was thick with mirth and she sounded far too smug for Arthur’s liking. Merlin laughed into her goblet and Arthur wanted to disappear, irked that his charisma had flown the nest. 

A lavish entourage of food arrived and his embarrassment dissolved under the weight of his ravenous appetite. Merlin was grateful for a decent meal after a week of bland travel food, exchanging conversation with Morgana while she ate. It was a relief to have someone intelligent to talk to, most of the ladies in Caerleon were zestless. The feast wore into the night and Merlin was treated to marzipans and sweet fig tarts before the two goblets of wine made their way to her head. “Excuse me, sire, I think I’ll retire for the evening.” 

Uther looked over at her and gave a polite smile, nodding amicably. “Yes, of course. Arthur will escort you back to your chambers.” Beside her, the prince’s head whipped around so fast she feared for his neck.

“Oh, that’s very kind of you my lord, but it’s really not necessary.”

“Nonsense! Arthur?” Arthur rose from his chair and reluctantly offered her his arm. Merlin gave the king a thin smile as she hooked her arm around the proffered one. They walked in silence, the click of Merlin’s heels pervading the quiet and Arthur felt her lean into him, the top of her head only just reaching the middle of his bicep. He was careful not to step on her dress, which trailed lazily behind her. Merlin shivered against him. “Are you cold, my lady?”

Merlin shook her head, but when he looked down he could see the bumps dancing across her skin, which looked soft indeed. “I’ve survived worse than a cold night.” Arthur stopped them, releasing Merlin’s arm so that he could shrug out of his jacket and the chilled air ventured through his shirt. 

“You don’t have to…” She protested but when Arthur slid his jacket over her shoulders, her fingers gripped at the lapels appreciatively as she was blanketed with his heat.

“I know, I want to.” Merlin graced him was a small smile and his heart did something funny when the corners of her eyes crinkled.

“Thank you, Arthur.”

“You shouldn’t address me like that.” It came out of his mouth before he could stop it and instant regret washed over him when the warmth vanished from Merlin’s eyes and her smile became more condescending.

“Oh? My sincere apologies, prince prat.” He scoffed loudly. The nerve!

“You will address me with the respect I deserve.” Merlin’s nose scrunched up in distaste at his pompous tone and she crossed her arms stubbornly, arching an unimpressed brow at him.

“Respect is earned, _sire_ , and you’ve no right to demand it from me.” Merlin stepped back, putting some distance between them as she impatiently rid herself of Arthur’s jacket, shoving it into his chest with more force than necessary. “Here, take your bloody jacket you arrogant git, I’ll no longer require your escort.”

Merlin spun around, skirts flaring out around her as she stomped away from him. Arthur watched the angry bunch of her shoulders while she lifted her dress to walk quicker. He stood, utterly dumbfounded, in the middle of the corridor. Speechless in light of Merlin’s gall, he slowly turned around and headed towards his own chambers. Arthur felt his lips curl in rapt excitement because finally, he had met a courtier that was colourful and strong minded, someone with a spine. 

Distantly, he thought he heard Morgana cackling.

\- -

Merlin had been adopted by Morgana, who snatched her away at any chance she got. Which meant that they ended up spending most of their days together. It had been two weeks since she arrived, and Merlin had only seen the prince in passing. Morgana had given her the grand tour of the castle so Merlin no longer got lost, which had been easy to do because every hallway looked the damn same.

She had the pleasure of meeting Gwen, a steadfast girl with bright eyes and unmatched kindness. On the nights she didn’t dine with Hunith, Merlin would venture to Morgana’s chambers and eat there, glad to see that Gwen often sat with them and shared the meal. It was refreshing to meet another noble that shared her regard for servants, that they too were people and deserved to be treated as such. Merlin had actually ranted to Morgana about Arthur’s manners after the banquet, who promptly dissolved into a fit of laughter when Merlin told her that she’d called him a git.

The few times that Merlin had seen the prince, he was brooding, though what about she couldn’t say. The two of them had exchanged little more than civil greetings since the banquet debacle and it suited Merlin just fine. She had been writing a letter to Annis when a sharp knock resonated and made her smudge the ink. She sighed. “Come in.”

Arthur poked his head in, followed shorty by the rest of his body before closing the door to lean back against it. Merlin reclined in her chain, grip slackening around the quill, waiting expectantly. Arthur cleared his throat loudly. “My lady," A shallow bow, "I thought you might enjoy a ride.”

“Has that pick up line ever worked?” Arthur blinked and was horrified to feel his cheeks heating under her gaze. The corner of Merlin’s lip twitched and he realised with mounting intrigue that he was being…teased.

“A horse ride.” He clarified with a challenging tilt of his chin, daring her to do it again, which she did.

“Sounds lovely, what will you be doing today?” A huff of laughter escape him and Merlin’s answering smile was reward enough. Her wit only made her more attractive in his eyes. Arthur gave her a funny look and left, making headway towards the stables where he ordered them to ready two horses. Merlin came prancing down the stairs and beamed when she saw her mount. They left the citadel without guards because Arthur was fairly confident that he was protection enough, and rode in companionable silence. Merlin was happy to be out of the castle getting some real air. “So, I hear you’ve been dismissing all the servants.” 

Arthur cringed inwardly because it came out a lot more accusatory than he had intended but if Merlin noticed she didn’t say anything. “Did you bring me out here just to tell me off?” She couldn’t help herself, it was wondrously easy to tease Arthur, who blanched and backtracked.

“No, of course not, just seems strange.” He shrugged with impartiality, though he was genuinely interested as to why she sent the maids away. They fell into silence, enjoying the sparrows overhead until Merlin’s quiet voice bridged the gap. 

“My maidservant was killed in the attack.” Sullenness fell over her at the memory and her shoulders sagged with it. “She was a friend, I can’t bare the thought of replacing her so soon.”

“Surely it can’t be that hard, they’re dispensable.” 

Merlin whirled on him with something akin to disgust burning in her eyes, voice tight with anger and ferocity. “Don’t you dare insult her like that. She was a better person than you could ever hope to be.” The horses walked on amicably, ignorant of the tension brewing around them. The bee that had been perched on the pommel of his saddle floated over to Merlin, he glared after it traitorously. “It shouldn’t matter whether someone is a servant or not, everybody deserves to be treated like they matter. A good king should respect all of his people.”

“What was her name?” Merlin looked over with a watery smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“Freya,” Her eyes grew fond. “She deserved better than a slaughter.” Arthur had no idea how to offer comfort, he’d always been pants at this kind of thing.

“I’ll tell my father not to send any more servants.”

“Thank you.” Merlin sucked in a breath, dislodging the solemnity from the air with a bright smile. “Besides, I’m quite capable of looking after myself, unlike some people.”

“Excuse me?”

“Imagine that, Camelot’s prince, inept at dressing himself.” Arthur spluttered from atop his horse. “Honestly, Arthur, how on earth do you expect to run a kingdom if you can’t even put your own socks on?”

“Hang on-“

“The nation’s tragedy, I can’t image your future wife will be impressed.” Merlin cast a disappointed look in his direction but it melted into a cheeky smile. “Come along, you’ve not packed lunch and I’m hungry.” The ride home was spent squabbling over Arthur’s aptitude, or the lack there of. Merlin insisted that there was no hope for the kingdom and Arthur wondered why the hell he invited her out in the first place.

\- -

Another week passed by uneventfully but the castle had been thrown into action with the announcement of King Bayard’s impending visit. Servants rushed to and fro laden with supplies. Ever since the horse ride, Merlin had made a habit of dropping into Arthur’s chambers unannounced. She usually ended up going off on a myriad of tangents while Arthur sat at his desk reading over reports. 

Merlin had been abhorred by the sight of it when she’s first ventured in and shooed him away from it before attacking the haphazard mound of parchments. Arthur protested at first, insisting that his organised chaos was easy to navigate, but when Merlin was finished his desk was cleaner than it had been in a long time. She explained the organisation to him like he was a child, which he found incredibly patronising, but he had to admit that it was a lot easier to find things now. 

Bayard’s party arrived with a surplus of knights that was a blatant display of power, and they congregated in the throne room. The Mercian procession were a stoic bunch as Uther and Bayard sized each other up face to face. “Camelot welcomes you, Lord Bayard of Mercia. The treaty we sign today marks an end to war, and to the beginning of a new friendship between our people.”

Forearms were clasped and the room broke into applause. Merlin followed Morgana out of the room and servants dodged them as they strolled through the castle. Conversation came to a standstill when one of Mercia’s serving girls fell before them, linens tumbling to the floor. “Sorry, please excuse me.”

“It’s alright, let me give you a hand with that.” Merlin met the girl on the floor and handed her a wayward pillow. “I’m Merlin.”

“Kara, it’s an honour to meet you, my lady.” She was gone as quickly as she came and Merlin sent a bewildered look at Morgana, who shrugged and looped her arm through Merlin’s, resuming their walk and instigating a new bout of chatter. Morgana’s chambers came into view and she was ushered inside and Merlin balked at the two tubs but Gwen had already moved behind her to unlace her dress. 

There was no use fighting it, and she was no stranger to nudity. Merlin was comfortable with her body and found no shame in bathing in the presence of her friends. Gwen tipped the most delicious smelling oil into her bath, rose and vanilla, and Merlin demanded to know where she could get her own. Morgana’s personal oil was lavender, she said she had never used the rose-vanilla one.

Merlin’s dress was soft against her skin as Gwen laced it up and Morgana looked beautiful in purple and blue. With three women in the room, conversation eventually turned to men and Morgana told them about the new knight hopeful that wouldn’t stop sending her flowers. Gwen mentioned Arthur, Morgana said she wouldn’t touch him with a lance pole and Merlin threw her head back in laughter. Together, they made their way to the banquet hall, Morgana insisted that ‘dramatic effect’ was achieved by arriving late. Merlin was grateful that Gwen had left her hair loose, for the air was chilled and the dress was backless. The feast was delicious as always, cook had outdone herself with the smoked honey ham.

Bayard was yabbering on about something and presenting ceremonial goblets when Kara appeared beside her. Arthur’s goblet was poisoned. Merlin watched as the wine was poured neatly into his chalice, but when she turned to seek confirmation, Kara was gone. Bayard was in the middle of his toast when she yelled; “Stop!” Merlin rose from her seat to snatch Arthur’s goblet. “It’s poisoned.”

What?” Uther glared daggers at her, Arthur’s eyes widened. “Merlin, what are you doing?”

“Bayard laced Arthur’s goblet, with poison.” Bayard unsheathed his sword with indignation and his men followed. “This is an outrage!” 

“Order your men to put down their swords. You are outnumbered.” 

“I will not allow this insult to go unchallenged.” Uther turned to Merlin.

“On what grounds do you base this accusation?” Merlin met his eyes and spoke with conviction. “He was seen lacing it, I can’t say by whom.”

“Pass me the goblet.” Uther inspected it for the briefest of moments before rounding on Bayard. “If you’re telling the truth, you have nothing to fear, do you?” The affronted king holstered his sword and reached out his hand for the chalice. “No. If this does turn out to be poison I want the pleasure of killing you myself.” Uther turned to Gwen. “You, drink it.”

“No!” Merlin surged forward protectively and pried the goblet from Uther’s hands. She spared a moment to meet Arthur’s horrified eyes before raising it to her lips. The wine funnelled warmly down her throat. The goblet ran dry and her eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“It’s…fine.” Arthur sagged in relief and Bayard moved to grab her arm, eyes furious when something cold gripped her throat. A trembling hand came up to her neck, but it did nothing to alleviate the dry constriction within. Merlin gasped for breath and looked up, eyes wide with fright before she fell to the ground, poisoned chalice rolling from her limp hand. Arthur shouted in alarm, Morgana snatched a knife from the table, and Uther yelled for the arrest of Bayard’s party. Arthur dropped to his knees by Merlin’s head and gently lifted it from the floor, fingers weaving into her silky hair. At Gaius’s instruction, he lifted Merlin from the ground, holding her close as one of his hands cradled her head into his chest. She weighed nothing to him. 

Gaius’s chambers were a blue of movement and all Arthur could do was pace anxiously while they tried to figure out what the poison was. With a name and location, Arthur vanished from the physician’s chambers, moving with purpose until he was on his way to the Forests of Balor where an ambiguous light led him away from man-eating spiders.

Gaius swore Gwen to secrecy because there was no use denying it. Gwen knew magic when she saw it and was ardent in her promise to keep it a secret. She knew that Merlin was too kind-hearted to be dangerous. Thankfully, the poisoning ordeal was no hindrance to the peace treaty. Merlin was on the road to recovery when Arthur popped by, aghast at the sight of her pale face, cocooned in a thick blanket while a shaky hand carted broth to her mouth. “Still alive then?”

“Just about, I understand I have you to thank for that.” Her eyes dropped to the table in an uncharacteristic display of shyness and she placed her spoon down.

“Yeah, well, it was nothing. A half decent friend is hard to come by.” Merlin’s hand reached out to grip his forearm in a way that said _it wasn’t nothing to me_. Seeing as Arthur was shoddy at dealing with emotions, he tacked on something lighter. “Morgana would’ve had my head if I let anything happen to you.”

Merlin snorted and released her hold. “Careful, almost sounds like you care.” Arthur chose to let that possibility hang in the air, shrugging one of his shoulders nonchalantly.

“I was only dropping by to make sure you’re alright. Get some rest.” Arthur made for the door, pausing at Merlin’s quiet, yet sincere ‘thank you’ and he shot her a boyish grin before slipping out of the room, where he was ambushed by Morgana and her shark-like grin. “Can’t you harass someone else?” Morgana trailed after him. 

“Afraid not, sorry,” She sounded anything but apologetic. “Where are you going to admit that I’m right?”

“About?”

“Your feelings for Merlin.” Arthur released a long suffering sigh and rolled his eyes to heavens.

“I haven’t got any and the sooner you get that into your daft head the better.” He might have had the last word, but as he was stomping away he couldn’t shake the feeling that Morgana had won somehow.

\- - 

It took a few days before Merlin was given the all clear by Gaius but at long last she was free from his scrutiny. It probably helped that her magic had a penchant for healing her at an abnormal rate, but Merlin wasn’t one to complain. Hunith had arranged for them to visit Caerleon and while Merlin wasn’t all that desirous about going back, she went along anyway. They planned to be gone for a month at the very most, and when they arrived back at the estate Merlin found that her home had lost its character. Cold where it was once warm, empty where it should be busy. It was nearing the end of their visit when she trudged into her old room only to be accosted by Nimueh, whose sudden appearance made Merlin jump out of her skin.

“Jesus, Nim! Where the hell did you come from?” Her question went unanswered in favour of being dragged into an embrace and squeezed tightly.

“There’s no time time to explain, I’ve come to warn you.”

“Warn me?” Nimueh was pinched with stress, her eyes frantic when she nodded.

“Yes, it’s Morgause, she has grown dissatisfied with destiny, thinks you too sedated in your approach. Her patience wears thin and I fear that she may soon meddle with fate.”

“But-“

“You must be vigilant, Merlin, promise me.” The desperation bleeding through Nimueh’s words was obscure from a woman so typically composed. Merlin nodded hastily and Nimueh vanished into thin air, she always did love the theatrics of relocation. A new day marked the start of their return and Hunith expressed her desire to remain in Caerleon, but guilt for deserting her daughter. Merlin had rolled her eyes fondly and brushed away worries of abandonment with enough conviction to abate her mother’s guilt.

Merlin reached Camelot in one piece and Morgana came parading out of the castle to greet her raven counterpart, expressing relief that Merlin was back. If Morgana was to be believed, Arthur had been insufferable in her absence but Morgana wasn't to be believe when Arthur was involved. Her return was announced at court and she had been sufficiently brought up to date by Morgana’s expressionistic recounts. Later, Merlin sought after Arthur and found him thrashing a man into the dirt on the training grounds. She had dragged Lance along, eager to repay his heroics by getting him inducted into the knights. Finished with his battery, Arthur threw his hands up in annoyance until his eyes found hers and he broke into a jog. “Merlin! How was your visit?”

“Not the most jovial, I half expected to see them waiting for us.” Merlin gave a desultory shrug. “I had only dirt to greet. Why are you beating your men like training dummies?”

Arthur groaned his irritation. “He’s the third to fail this month, how am I meant to defend Camelot with rubbish like that?”

“I might be able to help.” Merlin pulled Lancelot closer and Arthur only just seemed to notice that there was someone else next to her. His lip curled up in displeasure at the sight of him, unaware that Lance had already struck up a shy love affair with Gwen. “This is Lancelot, fifth son of Lord Eldred of Northumbria and he saved my life.”

For some reason that little tidbit irked Arthur beyond belief. Merlin’s unnecessarily affectionate hand touching _Lance-a-lot’s_ arm was all it took for his temper to reach a crescendo and his hand was moving before he could stop it. Lancelot staggered down into the dirt and Arthur shied away from Merlin’s ire, the familiar prickle of regret biting at his blood. Rather than apologise, he deemed it more acceptable to both insult and dismiss Lancelot. It won him another scowl.

“What is wrong with you?” Both of Merlin’s hands were stubbornly anchored onto Lancelot, whose cheeks had darkened with embarrassment. If Arthur were to answer honestly, perhaps he would say how much he loathed the easy affection they seemed to have, or, maybe that Lancelot was strikingly handsome and he hated the way Merlin fawned over him instead of Arthur.

But he wasn’t going to answer honestly, and rather than apologise, he told Lancelot that he could start by mucking out the stables. Merlin came to his chambers that evening and launched a vicious tirade at him, spitting fire that scorched his conscience. Appropriately chastised but still unwilling to apologise, he settled for whacking Lancelot about with a broom stick in the lower town. 

The warning bell tolled ominously in the distance and Arthur reached the courtyard to see Merlin guiding a woman to the bench before dashing off to scoop up a wailing child. The populace of Willowdale shuffled haltingly into the comfort of the city walls, he watched Merlin reunite the boy with his mother, who was promptly swathed in the deep green sea of Merlin’s cloak. It wasn’t something any other noble would do, and the peasant woman watched Merlin stride away in open awe, her son excitedly running his grubby little paws over the soft fabric.

Lancelot appeared at her side and Arthur clenched his jaw against the wave of resentment that threatened to drown him as the two of them skittered into the castle together, whispering intently. 

Later, Merlin and Gwen watched excitedly from the edge of the field, Gwen’s hand constricting into an impressive death grip whenever Arthur’s blade arched towards Lancelot. For a brief moment, it seemed that Lancelot’s dream had come to and end, but a surge of movement sent Arthur falling and Lancelot was declared the victor. Gwen squealed in exhilaration, forgoing Merlin’s company in favour of rushing to her lover's side.

Merlin drifted over to Arthur, who turned to the sound of her grassy footfalls. She beamed, eyes twinkling, and Arthur was helpless to stop to surge of attraction that flooded his chest. If Arthur looked close enough, he would see the first glimmer of respect come to life in those eyes of hers.

\- -

There was a feast in Sir Lancelot’s honour, celebrating his knighthood. Arthur made a short toast, raising his goblet up. He spoke amicably with Lancelot and found it increasingly difficult to dislike the man, much to his chagrin. From their seat atop the bench, the two of them watched Merlin and Gwen graze around the food, giggling at something. 

“Here’s trouble.” He said. Merlin looked exceptional this evening, rich purple silk flowing about her legs while a gold belt cinched her wais. “Tell me, do you think her beautiful?”

“Yes, sire, I do.” Arthur was too busy staring at Merlin to notice that Lancelot’s eyes were glued Guinevere. Hiding a sigh into his cider, Arthur’s eyes peered past the rim of his goblet to see Merlin’s nose scrunch up at something Gwen said.

“Yeah,” Her hair was held back by little decorative pins. “I suppose she is.”

Across the floor, Merlin nudged Gwen’s arm as she reached around to nick a lemon cake from the table. It was still warm and she revelled in the flavour, barely supressing a moan as her tongue darted out to catch the crumbs. Gwen pouted and rubbed her side dramatically as Merlin tossed her head in Lance’s direction. “I think our Sir Lancelot may have eyes for you Gwen.”

“Don’t be silly.” A blush coloured her cheeks as she swatted Merlin’s arm.

“So what if he did? Would that really be so bad?” Gwen gave a fond, hard-done-by shake of her head, but the way her dark eyes were magnetised to Lancelot’s said there was nothing bad about it at all. Gwen was too modest to discuss such matters in public so Merlin gave a playful ultimatum. “So come on, just for the sake of argument, if you had to - Arthur or Lancelot?”

“But I don’t have to and I never will.” She singsonged.

“Oh, you’re no fun.” Merlin pouted and crossed her arms in faux annoyance, Gwen giggled and gave in.

“Alright fine, if I life-or-death had to? Lancelot,” Merlin grinned. “But only because otherwise I’d been queen and I don’t fancy that, who’d want to marry Arthur?” Merlin offered her an inquisitive look, eyebrow arching and Gwen back-tracked with wide eyes.

“Not that Arthur isn’t lovely! I meant just that, well, he’s not really my type, is all. I’m sure he’ll make his wife happy, hopefully, one day.”

“Gwen,” Merlin glanced downward pointedly, toward the nervous wringing of hands and Gwen snapped them behind her back with startling speed. “Relax.”

“Though I have to say I’m not sure which Arthur you’re talking about because that one,” She flipped her hand in his general direction. “Is not lovely, he’s a prat.” Gwen tried to stifle laughter but her commitment was meagre so the chortles escaped anyway. Merlin swiped another lemon cake before they moved on to hunt down Morgana, but not before she glanced over her shoulder to meet Arthur’s eyes with a small smile.

\- -

Merlin was distraught when news came of Lancelot’s arrest, she had really thought they would get away with it, would have if not for Uther’s incessant state of suspicion. Lance kneeled with quiet acceptance as Uther harped on about shame and dishonour and Merlin had to hold her wayward tongue, Lancelot was more honourable than anyone she knew. At least Arthur seemed just as disappointed for the loss as she was. “You are not worthy of the knighthood bestowed upon you, you never were, and you never will be.”

Lancelot’s gentle eyes were swamped with hurt and it was all Merlin could do to not smite Uther. Gods above, if anyone was worthy of knighthood it was the man kneeling before them. Shoulders heavy with defeat and eyes downcast, Lance’s life-long dream was shattered. She visited him later in the dungeons, a million apologies at the tip of her tongue but Lance insisted on self-blame, too noble for his own good. 

Gaius finally identified the beast to be a griffin; a creature of myth and magic. As though summoned by their discovery, the griffin soared into Camelot in a cacophony of cries. Merlin raced to the window to see the creature swooping low into the courtyard, toying with the people that scattered like ants. Arthur came charging out with a gaggle of knights, swords blazing and Merlin had to roll her eyes. She fled Gaius’s chambers and dashed though the castle, stray servants jumping aside to avoid being bowled over. At last, her shoes greeted the staircase and just in time, too. Arthur’s spear splintered against the griffin and he fell over under its onslaught, shield the only protection from death. 

Thinking quickly, Merlin snatched a torch from its sconce and called out to draw Arthur’s attention. He rolled towards her and she tossed the torch, flames making quick work of repelling the griffin. It flew off, but not before it screeched at them in fury. She watched it abandon the citadel with one hand still clutched in her skirts, brought back to reality by Arthur’s hard grip on her arm. “What were you thinking? You could have been killed!”

“As could you were it not for me.” She snipped, trying to ignore Arthur’s strong hold and the warmth that spread beneath his hand.

“I’m the first knight of Camelot, _Merlin_ , I hardly needed help from a girl.”

“Oh, I suppose you would’ve thought to use fire then? Or would have have continued to pat it with your spears until it killed you? Sounds about right.” Arthur’s fingers grew slack around her elbow so she shrugged out of his grasp. Sometimes she found herself thinking that perhaps Arthur isn’t as conceited as he seems, but then he does things like this that completely shatter any illusions of decency. Sometimes, she forgets about the arrogant, egotistical arse that hides behind his pretty face. 

“You’re welcome, _sire_.” Arthur watches her stomp back into the castle, skirts flaring behind her in a mirror image of her blazing mood. Merlin’s ability to use an esteemed title as an insult amazes him.

\- -

Of course it all came down to her and this would be the third time she’d had to save Arthur’s royal ass after Lady Helen and Valient. Because it came as no surprise that a creature of magic could only be killed by magic, though Uther seemed convinced that Camelot’s steel would prevail like the stubborn fool he was. 

Gwen burst into her chambers shortly after the sun departed with frantic rambling, most of it was said so quickly Merlin didn’t catch it, but she filtered out the important bits. Swinging on a hooded cloak, Merlin swept out of her room without a word and marched to the stables.

Ronin stomped his hooves at her, displeased with being dragged from his slumber. She placated him by pulling an apple from the air and smoothing a hand against his obsidian coat. Gearing him up was swift with magical intervention and they were thundering into the forest soon enough. Arthur was predictably unconscious but it seemed Lance survived the initial assault for he sat atop his horse defiantly. Merlin dismounted and strode forward as Lancelot urged himself into a charge, his lance - how ironic - poised to strike. The griffin launched into action in some mockery of jousting and Merlin opened herself up to the land, drawing power from it as she began to incant, “Bregdan anwaeld gefeluc.”

Consumed by blue fire, the lance head met little resistance when it met its mark, engulfing the griffin in a cobalt cloud as the spell took hold and brought an end to its violence. Merlin sunk back into the shadows to retain her anonymity and hopped up onto Ronin, who had been patiently waiting among the birches, totally unbothered by the magic and had the audacity to give a bored flick of his ear as she mounted.

\- -

Merlin waited outside the throne room with Gwen, both waiting to see if Uther would rescind Lance’s banishment in light of his heroics. Which didn’t happen because Lance, the noble bastard, said he couldn’t take credit for someone else’s victory. “They should have restored your knighthood, you killed the griffin!” 

“But I didn’t kill the griffin,” Merlin felt a chill spread through her blood but she fought to maintain her composure. Her eyes darted to Gwen, who looked suspiciously unsurprised when Lance finished by saying, “You did.”

Merlin chuckled nervously and slipped on an anxious smile. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Bregdan anwaeld, I heard you. I saw you.” And wasn’t that lovely? Her blood settled into ice and she thought that maybe she’d die from shock alone. Merlin hustled closer to Lance and flicked her head around the hallway apprehensively, but then her eyes fell on Gwen, who was staring at her with a motherly understanding and Merlin felt like dying all over again. Gwen smiled sympathetically and Merlin’s head looked back and forth between them with mounting horror.

“You sort of created a ball of light when you were poisoned by the mortaeus.”

“ _Christ_ , who the bloody hell else knows?!” Gwen shushed her hurriedly and did a wide-eyed assessment of the hallway and shook her head. Her voice was low and gentle when she spoke.

“Just us, I think.”

“You think-“

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with us.” Lancelot’s soothing cadence washed over her and she slumped in relief. When she searched, there was nothing but acceptance and love in their eyes and Merlin sucked in a shuddering breath, overwhelmed by emotion. “ _Thank you_.”

The next morning, Merlin and Gwen escorted Lance out of Camelot. There were teary hugs and watery smiles, and once she’d said her own goodbye she gave them some privacy. Partly because it was polite but mostly because they were sickeningly romantic, like bashful star-crossed lovers. She bumped into Arthur on her way back and raised a halting arm to his chest when he made to move past her. “Trust me, Arthur, you don’t want to go down there.”

His brows furrowed. “And why is that?”

“Lance and Gwen are having a moment alone, if you know what I mean.” Arthur does, in fact, know what she means, and as realisation dawned on him a smile stretched across his face. It seems as though he had been particularly obtuse these past couple of days. Lancelot wasn’t interested in Merlin, and that notion was enough to soothe his restless energy because his inspoken was under no threat. Loopy grin still adorned, Arthur offered up his arm and his heart stuttered when Merlin beamed and looped her arm through his.

\- -

On the night of Lancelot’s departure, Arthur invited Merlin to dine with him, in a totally friendly kind of way. The woman strolled into his chambers like they were her own, tossing her shawl over a chair and plopping down. Arthur sat down opposite her with a taunt about knocking, to which she just shrugged and grinned. Merlin’s eyes surveyed the food and they locked onto the lemon cakes, a delighted smile on her lips when she picked one up. Arthur hid a pleased smile into his goblet, he ordered them specially for her after seeing how she gravitated toward them at Lancelot’s feast. They spoke like old friends but Arthur spent majority of the evening watching Merlin’s lips.

At some point, Merlin found her way across the table to sit next to him and their chairs seemed to have moved together of their own violation. It was probably the mulled wine that made him lean in. Merlin’s eyes looked golden in the firelight and when her tongue darted out to wet her lips and it was all he could do not to press her against the table.

Arthur cleared his throat and a knowing smile tugged at Merlin’s mouth when they broke apart, blue eyes locked in a trance. Merlin leant back enough to take another sip of wine and just like that, the mood dissolved into something more familiar. She stayed with him until small yawns beckoned her to bed and their goodbye was marked by hug that lingered a little too long. They had been dancing around each other like teenagers, fleeting touches in the corridors and secretive smiles ever since their dinner.

Camelot was content for all of five days until it found turbulence once more. Arthur returned from a hunt with some woman and her father because he literally couldn’t go a week without trouble. Merlin didn’t even see the appeal of appeal of hunting.

_”It requires speed, stealth, and an agile mind, Merlin.”_

_”So you’re able to get by on two out of three then?”_

Nonetheless, Sophia of Tí-Mòr stood before the court with her father, a severe looking man with heavy creases etched into his face. Merlin couldn’t help but notice Arthur’s fixation on the woman, his eyes scarcely strayed from her. She doused the embers of jealousy that threatened to spark a wildfire and squinted at their staffs. There was something off about them but she couldn’t quite place it. Sophia kept giving Arthur lustrous looks from the corner of her eye and Merlin didn’t miss the way Arthur’s gaze raked the woman up and down when she left.

Later, Merlin was leant against the corridor archway watching a servant settle Sophia into the room next to Arthurs with a suspicious tilt to her head. A hand enclosed around her arm tightly and Merlin jumped when Morgana spoke low into her ear, “Who is that?”

“Sophia Tí-Mòr, Arthur rescued her.” There was the faintest tinge of bitterness to her voice but it seemed Morgana was too troubled to notice, or if she did she didn’t say anything. 

“She can’t stay here.” Morgana's eyes were glued to Sophia, wide and frightened, her fingers engraving a bruise into Merlin’s arm. The alarm was stark in her pale eyes and it raised Merlin’s hackles.

“What do you mean? Is everything okay?” Morgana blinked, seemed to realise what she said and pasted on a fake smile.

“Yes, I’m fine.” She nodded but it felt like she was trying to convince herself more than Merlin, who didn’t miss the fact that Morgana evaded her first question. She ushered Morgana into the nearest alcove and asked again in a whisper.

“I had a dream,” She was hesitant to continue so Merlin rubbed a comforting hand over her shoulder. “I saw Arthur lying underwater, drowning and there was a woman standing over him, watching him die and she’s here, in Camelot.”

“Sophia?”

Morgana nodded hastily. “But I had this dream before she came to Camelot.” The fear in her eyes could not be mistaken and Merlin had a sinking feeling that she knew what was happening. “God, it sounds crazy, but I know what I saw. So real, so vivid.”

“You’re right, it does sound crazy,” Morgana looked betrayed. “But I believe you.” Her relief was palpable and Merlin gave her hand a little squeeze.

“I saw him die, Merlin. She’s going to kill him.”

“No, not if I have anything to do with it. Thank you for trusting me with this, Morgana.”

Merlin peered around the wall to ensure the corridor was empty before she slipped out, gesturing for Morgana to follow. “Thank you for believing me, Gaius shoves draughts down my throat and tells me my mind plays tricks.” Merlin sailed the conversation toward more pleasant seas but it did nothing to abate the dark sense of trepidation that had nestled into her bones. With Morgana deposited safely back in his chambers with Gwen, Merlin was turning a corner to descend the stairs when she almost crashed into Sophia, who sneered before hastily slipping a mask on, fluttering lashes and sweet smile to boot. “Sorry, Lady Merlin isn’t it? I’m Sophia.” 

“I know who you are, what are you doing here?” Merlin eyed the proffered hand with cool disdain. Sophia’s smile morphed into something cruel and calculating.

“My father and I are guests of the king.” Merlin grabbed her wrist in a punishing grip and pulled her close, glad to see the flash of shock and to hear the bitten of gasp.

“I know what you’re going to do to him and I won’t let it happen.”

Sophia looked down and when her head rose again there was something haughty on her face, a triumphant glint to her eye. “Does Arthur know you feel this way about him? Of course he does, I suspect he’s already turned you down.”

“Do not think you can make a fool out of me.”

“I won’t have to, you’re managing to do that well enough already.” Her lips curved with excessive self-satisfaction and Merlin longed to wipe that smug look off her face. Rip the stupid ribbons out of her hair and shove them down her throat.

“Stay away from him.”

“Or what? Jealousy is such an unattractive trait in a woman.”

“If anything happens to Arthur, I promise you’ll regret ever daring to step foot in this kingdom.” Merlin could feel her magic thrumming beneath her skin, begging to be set free but it simmered angrily behind her restraint. She circled around Sophia with thinly veiled hatred and continued down the stairs towards her chambers. Once there, she emptied the contents of her water jug into a wash basin, hoping to scry for the future. “Betaecan se wóþbora ansión.”

_Arthur sank through murky water, unconscious and unknowing. Sophia’s hand was extended over the water’s surface, pushing Arthur’s heavy body further down._

The image dissipated, water only showing Merlin her own reflection. Morgana’s dream didn’t tell her much, only that there was water involved. But there was a number of large-bodied lakes dotted around Camelot and it could be any one of them. The dream was well lit which means this attack would be done during the day. Merlin wasn’t sure how long she spent holed up in her chambers, but at some point a chill settled into the air and she registered that it was almost sundown. 

Glad she opted for a long sleeved dress, Merlin forewent a cloak as she started winding her way towards Arthur’s chambers, which weren’t really that far away. Swinging the doors open, she entered to see Arthur fiddling with his belt as he tried to take it off. “Again, with the knocking, Merlin, you should try it sometime.”

“Mm, so then, Sophia, you seem very fond of her.” Merlin didn’t even bother trying to hide the bitterness in her voice, nor the faint note of distaste. 

“You make that sound like a bad thing.” Her eyes narrowed as Arthur finally managed to free himself of the belt.

“I just never thought you could fall under a woman’s spell so quickly.”

“If you’re jealous, Merlin, it’s okay to admit it.” Arthur still hadn’t even turned around to look at her, so he missed the flash of irritation that crossed her fiery eyes.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She pushed forward, coming up behind him while he shrugged out of his hunting jacket.

“Come on. There’s no shame in it.” There was a smugness in his voice so unbecoming Merlin just barely refrained from cracking him over the head with a jug.

“Arthur, I’m trying to protect you. She isn’t what she seems.” Arthur still ignored her, choosing instead to focus on slipping his boots of like she was a hindrance on his peace. His voice sounded bored and not at all interested when he asked, “Why? What makes you say that?”

Her eyes tracked his movement across the room, Merlin couldn’t just out herself by saying she saw the future so instead she said: “I just have a feeling.” Which sounded unconvincing even to own ears. “It’s difficult to describe.”

Arthur, the prick, had the nerve to laugh like it was some grand joke and Merlin’s temper started to climb. “You really are very sweet, Merlin. You can tell me the truth, it’s obvious you like me.” 

Merlin scoffed in disbelief, blazing eyes following him down into his chair as white-hot anger started to choke through her veins. The sheer level of self-importance this man exuded was utterly repulsive. “Less and less by the second.” She hissed.

“All right. Whatever you say.” Arthur patronised.

“You’re intolerable. You had better hope I’m wrong about her.” Merlin stormed out of his chambers, her normally serene eyes ablaze with unchecked fury. That encounter alone was enough to abrogate any fondness she may have felt towards him, because Merlin happened to know that Arthur was not yet enchanted, as confirmed by the subtle waves of magic she sent towards him. Which means there’s so plausible excuse for his arrogance other than him being a condescending twat.

\- -

“I fear that Sophia may not be all that she seems.”

“Yes, I figured as much.” Gaius raised an eyebrow. “What do you know about seers?”

“I know that it is the innate gift of prophecy, those who have it are born that way…some aren’t even aware that what they see is the future. What are you getting at, Merlin?”

“Morgana had a dream and Sophia was in it, before she came to Camelot. Surely you can see this for what it is?” Gaius’s face was grave, eyes downcast.

“I’ve been watching Morgana since she was very young and though I’ve tried to persuade myself otherwise, I realised that some of the things she said she’d dreamt came to pass. I kept it secret from Uther, of course. The gift of prophecy is too close to the work of magic.”

“You think Morgana is a seer?”

“I don’t think it, I fear it. Morgana told her about her dream?” Merlin nodded and Gaius continued. “I was in Aulfric’s chambers earlier and in a flash of anger his eyes changed colour.” A troubled frown settled comfortably between Merlin’s brows.

“Who are they?”

“It’s not who they are that worries me, it’s what they want with Arthur.”

Determined to figure this out before it was too late, Merlin tailed Aulfric through the Darkling Woods that night, enchanting her boots to fall silently. Though her black cloak stirred up the crunchy forest floor, she was far enough away to go unheard. He led her to a lake, _jackpot_ , and with some obnoxious shouting, indeterminable wisps of light danced across the lake’s surface. Her magic acted of its own volition, she felt the familiar warmth spread behind her eyes, unbidden, and the world slowed down. She never could figure out how it was that she could pull at the strings of time with such ease but who was she to question it. Merlin couldn’t stop the wondrous grin that took over her face when her eyes found the slowed figures. Tiny blue fairies zapped over the lake, pointed feet disturbing the water’s tranquillity.

“I come before you to plead for the chance to win passage back to Avalon and a life of immortality.” A fairy, slightly larger than the rest came into sight and pointed an accusing finger.

“Your punishment for killing another Sidhe is a mortal body and a mortal life. You will never be able to return to Avalon.”

“The crime was mine, not my daughter’s!”

“The gates of Avalon remained closed to your daughter unless the soul of a mortal prince be offered up to them.”

“Thank you, an immortal life for my daughter is all that I desire. So I promise you the soul of the greatest prince of all - Arthur Pendragon!” Merlin raced away from the lake with renewed urgency. By the time she had dashed back to the castle, it had already settled into slumber so she had no choice but to do the same. When the sun peeked into her room Merlin wasted no time streaming into Gaius’s chambers to tell him what she overheard last night. Gaius twittered away in astonishment of what she had seen, something about a land of internal youth and and how mortals are only meant to see it before death. “I’ve seen it and I’m still here.”

“Extraordinary. What did it look like?”

“Does it matter? They’re going to sacrifice Arthur so why don’t we focus on that.”

“Right, we’re dealing with the Sidhe. They’re masters of enchantment so I’m almost certain that Arthur has been enchanted.”

“He can’t be, I checked him for enchantment just last night and there was no sign of it.”

“Sidhe magic is not something you’ve encountered, Merlin, your magic probably doesn’t recognise it’s signature.” She nodded and hunkered down to do some research, trying to learn anything that would help her defeat them before they killed Arthur. Gaius left shortly after lunch and had some very disturbing news upon his return; Arthur had declared his love for Sophia and announced his intention to marry, Merlin nearly fell off her chair. Sophia’s enchantment was stronger than she thought, but maybe there was still time to talk some sense into Arthur. Merlin’s feet chewed at the stone as she sped to his chambers. The doors swung open before she could even touch them and she reigned her magic in, thankful to see that Arthur’s guards weren’t posted. Arthur himself was too busy packing a bag to notice, though he did cast an irritated glance in her direction.”Get out.”

“I know what you think you’re doing, and I know you think you’re in love with Sophia-“

“Who are you to tell me what I’m thinking? I said get out, now leave me!”

Merlin didn’t cower in the face of Arthur’s anger. “I’m your friend.”

“No, Merlin, you’re not.” She swallowed the hurt, pushing down the irrational urge to cry, concerned that a small statement like that could even impact her so much. 

“You don’t know what your doing. She’s cast a spell on you, you’re enchanted.”

“I told you people would try to keep us apart.” Merlin swivelled to Sophia’s sickly voice, glaring daggers at her. Arthur’s eyes glazed over with faux love, face going slack in response to the wench’s magic and his voice was heavy with devotion when he said, “I know. I won’t let that happen.”

“Don’t listen to her, she’s controlling you!” Something almost imperceptible flicked behind Arthur’s eyes, something akin to confusion. Merlin’s magic was rolling off her in waves, wrapping itself around Arthur. Sophia must’ve felt the encroachment on her spell because she stepped closer and spoke again, “We can elope together, get away from this place, these people.”

“No, Arthur, they’re planning to kill you to buy a life of immortality. Please, you have to believe me.” Arthur seemed to be fighting some internal war, eyes disorientated and brow furrowed when he shook his head.

“It doesn’t make sense. We’re in love.” It was said like he was trying to convince himself of the fact and Merlin amplified her magic, finally starting to see some cracks in the enchantment. She turned back to the Sidhe, standing defensively between them and Arthur and their eyes were blood red. “Look at their eyes, look at them, don’t you see Arthur?”

Merlin staggered back, horrified to see that Arthur’s eyes were red too. The enchantment was too strong. She moved, reaching out for him but a bolt from Aulfric’s staff sent her flying, head cracking painfully against the wall. The last thing she saw was a flicker of worry in Arthur’s now blue eyes before the world faded to nothing. 

\- -

“Merlin! What happened to you?” The voice filtered through her stuffy ears, a pitiful groan sounded as she was roused from unconsciousness. There were sturdy hands pulling her up and a bout of blinking cleared her vision enough to make out Gaius’s creased face. 

“Where’s Arthur? I have to go after him,” Merlin’s feet were steady but her head was pounding something fierce. “What’s that buzzing noise?”

“Easy, Merlin, you can barely stand up.” Much to her annoyance her foot did in fact get caught in her skirts and lurched her forward. “You can’t go, not in this state. You owe it to your powers that you survived this at all.”

“I’ll be fine, he needs me.”

“Has that buzzing stopped?”

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

“I have to go, Gaius, he’ll die if I don’t.”

“You must be careful.”

Merlin gave him a shit-eating grin. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.” She walked to the door, or at least she thought she did until Gaius gave her a stern look and pointed in the opposite direction. Turns out she nearly walked out a window. “Just testing.”

With memory of the long on-foot journey to the lake, she dashed into the stables and tacked Ronin. He was easily the fastest horse in Camelot, an impressive pedigree made sure of that and the ground disappeared beneath his hooves. The closer she got to the lake, the lighter the sky grew and Merlin urged her horse on. In the distance, she could hear guttural chanting. “…Sé áre. Ig bæþ deahl sǽ néah.”

At long last Aulfric came into view, as did Sophia’s discarded staff. Merlin took advantage of his dedication to the spell and muttered, “Ongebringan.” The staff careened toward her, snapping into her outstretched hand. 

The Sidhe magic thrummed through the wood and with a minuscule influx of her own magic, the staff conformed to her command. “Swilte, gold beorþ!” 

Aulfric turned at the sound of her voice but was too late to defend himself against the bolt of magic headed his way and his body combusted. Sophia, startled by her father’s yell, looked up in dismay. “Acwele!” Sophia was obliterated too. With that taken care of, Merlin darted into the water, not caring that it would soak her dress.

“Arthur!” The water was frigid, the kind of cold that went straight to the bone. She could hardly see underwater so it was a blind search but before her panic reached hysteria her hand found something solid. He weighed a ton with all his stupid armour on but she lugged him to the surface, breaking the surface with a great gasp of air. With great effort, Merlin managed to haul Arthur onto dry land and roll him sideways so that he could cough up the stale water without choking. She didn’t even bother trying to pick him up so instead, a flash of gold sent his floating over to Ronin, who bared the weight without batting an eye.

\- -

The first thing Arthur noticed was the pounding headache and his articulated his suffering with a long groan. Blinking the crust from his eyes, he stared up at his canopy, aware of the two people sitting beside his head. “What happened?”

“Can you remember anything?” He recognised Merlin’s voice, gentle as always. Pushing up, he looked over at her, noted the damp hair and frowned. He brought a hand up to his head in a futile attempt to stop the headache.

“There was a girl - Sophia. I asked my father something about her, I asked him-” Arthur waved his other hand about while he tried to recollect the events. He froze and sat straight backed, appalled at the memory. “What was I thinking?” Voice thick with alarm, he glance at Merlin again, saw the hurt buried underneath her concern.

“We did wonder, especially when you eloped with her last night.” Merlin’s voice was clipped but there was amusement there too.

“I did what?” Arthur was incredulous, why the hell would he scamper off with a girl he’d known for all of three days? Merlin’s lip twitched.

“Merlin had to bring you back to Camelot.” Gaius said, with a seriousness exaggerated by the arching of his infamous eyebrow. Arthur blinked through his frown.

“I don’t recall any of this.” Merlin’s lip twitched again and Arthur narrowed his eyes.

“It must’ve been some blow.” Gaius looked at Merlin then, who could no longer contain the amused quirk of her mouth as she gazed up at Arthur, whose eyes narrowed even further.

“What blow?” Because surely no one managed to get the better of him in such an embarrassing way, he was the first bloody knight of Camelot. Merlin spoke with a suspicious amount of mirth when she said, “Well, when I caught up with you I couldn’t persuade you to return. You were beyond reason, so I had to make you.” Her eyes with sparkling even as she nodded solemnly.

“You managed to knock me out?” Arthur couldn’t believe this, she was tiny, there was no way she could best someone like him.

“Yep, felt really bad about it.” She absolutely did not, Arthur knew as much by the proud lilt to her voice and the mock concern that did absolutely nothing to hide the glee in her eyes. He flung a hand out, finger pointing sternly. “No one,” He jabbed his finger in Merlin’s direction, “can know about this, any of it. Is that understood?”

Merlin nodded but her bitten back smile was still there, which meant Arthur could expect insistent teasing from Morgana for the next week. They left Arthur to rest and Morgana came to visit Merlin in her chambers later that day, thanking her for saving Arthur and believing her premonition.

\- -

Sometimes Merlin wondered what life would be like if she just went back to Caerleon. Not that she didn’t love Camelot but saving Arthur’s life week in and week out got tedious very quickly. Kilgharrah said the druid boy they saved was going to kill Arthur at some point in the future so that was nice, then there was the wraith of his mother’s brother which was more bothersome than threatening. And things tend to come in threes so with those two calamities out of the way, Merlin waited for the big catastrophe.

It came on a sun shining, birds chirping kind of day, as it usually happens. At Arthur’s insistance, Merlin had agreed to join him on a hunt and while not particularly lady-like, she did appreciate the fresh air. Hunting, not so much, she never could understand how killing things could bring such joy. Nevertheless, Merlin had donned her slim-fit trousers and a flowy tunic and tagged along. Well, more like dragged if she was being honest.

If being forced to watch questionable murder wasn’t enough, Arthur had the gall to make _her_ flush out his next target. Her concerns fell on annoyingly deaf ears and she trudged through the undergrowth with obnoxious volume, just to spite him. The sight she beheld was magical.

A white unicorn stood surrounded by a halo of sunshine, glossy coat twinkling in the light. Merlin walked towards it slowly, not wanting it to startle but the animal was content with her presence. She thought that perhaps it knew they were both creatures of magic. “Go, go.” She whispered, but the unicorn whinnied and mouthed at her hair. Gods above, it had the softest coat she had ever felt, like the most exquisite silk. 

“They’ll kill you! Please, go.” Merlin looked around as she pushed against a weight that would not budge. Arthur appeared above them, cross bow aimed to slaughter. “Arthur, no!” The arrow let loose, hitting its mark with a sickening thud. Merlin dropped to her knees by the unicorn’s head, cradling it in her lap. She could feel the land’s anger at this injustice even as tears of despair spilled down her cheeks, her own magic stirring restlessly at the loss of life. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” was all she could say as its body grew heavy.

“Ha ha! A unicorn!” The glee in his voice repulsed her and she looked up him, letting her heartbreak and anger show clearly on her face.

“What have you done?”

“Don’t be such a girl, Merlin.” A man appeared behind Arthur and she frowned at him through the slow trickle of tears. Arthur turned around but when he did the man vanished, Merlin blinked. She didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day, unwilling to pay any attention to a man that took pleasure in murdering innocent creatures. Nothing good would come of this but Arthur was took thick-headed to listen. He tried to talk to her but she shot him a venomous glare whenever he did. When they got back to the castle, she was disgusted with the way Uther held up the horn like it was some kind of trophy. “Gaius, look at this.”

“Very impressive, my lord.”

“What is it, Gaius? Speak your mind.” Uther tossed the horn back to a servant and Merlin needed every ounce of self control not the throttle him for his disregard.

“Unicorns are rare and mystical creatures, there is a legend that says that bad fortune will come to anyone who slays one.” Merlin had half a mind to throttle Arthur too when he had the nerve to laugh.

“Nonsense, we will be the envy of every kingdom.” Christ, the ignorance seemed to ricochet off Uther and Arthur, bouncing merrily back and forth between them. Merlin ranted her frustrations to Gaius, who at least shared her outrage over this kill, _Arthur’s a hunter, it’s in his blood,_ her arse, she didn’t give a damn about Arthur’s blood, that didn’t give him the right to go prancing around slaying unicorns. 

Later that day, news came of kingdom-wide crop failures, every single field darkened by death. People came from every corner of the kingdom in search of food, collecting their meagre rations. After that came the livestock, cattle and poultry alike dropping dead like flies, no plausible explanation. The grain stores were running low already, there was not enough to sustain the kingdom for long. As if the situation wasn’t dire enough, the water pumps choked up sand and when they checked the underground reservoir, that too had run dry. 

It the underground hallways of the dungeons, she and Arthur were searching for a man they had seen slinking around. Arthur was just asking her is she was blind when their pursuit appeared in front of them. “Are you looking for me? I am Anhora, keeper of the unicorns.”

“Camelot is under curfew. What’s your business here?” Merlin recognised the man she had seen in the forest.

“I have come to deliver a message, for you, Arthur Pendragon.”

“Is it you who is responsible for killing our crops, turning our water into sand?”

“You alone are responsible for the misfortune that has befallen Camelot.”

“Me?” Arthur’s voice grew tight, “You think I’d bring drought and famine upon my own people?”

“When you killed the unicorn you unleashed a curse, for this, Camelot will suffer greatly.”

“If you have put a curse on Camelot, you will lift it,” Merlin rolled her eyes to the heavens, Arthur had to be deaf, she was sure of it. “Or you will pay with your life.”

“The curse was not my doing.”

“Undo the curse or face execution.” She wanted to whack him, how can one person possibly be this thick? It was almost impressive.

“Only you can do that. You will be tested.” Arthur made to grab Anhora’s shoulder and place him under arrest but he vanished before their eyes, only to reappear at the top of the stairs. “Until you have proven yourself and made amends for killing the unicorn, the curse will not be lifted. If you fail any of these tests, Camelot will be damned for all eternity.” 

\- -

“You think I’m responsible for bringing suffering upon my own people?”

“Absolutely, not deliberately, but you heard what Anhora said and it lines up with what Gaius said.” Arthur glowered at her, so Merlin placed her hands on her hips defiantly and glowered right back. “When you killed the unicorn, I saw Anhora in the forest, doesn’t that make you think he was telling the truth?”

“Because he was skulking about in the forest? It makes me trust him even less.”

“Why would Anhora appear in Camelot and then lie to you?”

Arthur shrugged in his chair, “We had him cornered, he was trying to talk his way out of it by blaming me.”

Merlin pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed heavily, talking slowly as thought Arthur was a child. “Arthur, he can disappear into thin air. He didn’t have to talk his way out of anything.”

“My father has warned me about sorcerers like him,” He stood up. “They will not rest until our kingdom is destroyed.” Merlin’s eye twitched subtlety.

“I believe he’s telling the truth, and if you weren’t such a stubborn idiot, you would too!”

“Then you’re a fool. You cannot trust a single word a sorcerer says and you’d do well to remember that.”

“The only fool here is you, Arthur. You killed a unicorn that meant no harm and now the people suffer for your ignorance. The sooner you realise it, the better, then you can fix the mess you’ve caused.” Merlin took her leave, ignoring Arthur’s petulant shouts that followed her down the corridor. Arthur showed mercy to a grain looter and morning brought water back to the wells, there was credence to Anhora’s words after it and it seemed Arthur had finally started to heed to Merlin’s words.

More people poured into Camelot from the outlying villages in search of food. There were scarcely enough rations to feed the people that were already here. Merlin managed to smuggle some bread from the palace kitchen and shared it out between children and the elderly, trying to make it go as far as they can. The villages gawked at her as she passed through, unaccustomed to seeing nobles. When she reached down to the dirt-smeared children, they reached out to touch her white fur coat, poking at the embroidery around her dress hem. 

Their parents tried to pull them back, aghast at their children’s actions but Merlin reassured them all with smiles, they was nothing wrong with a child’s curiosity. One little girl even offered her a wilted flower as a thank you so Merlin slipped it behind her ear and wore it with pride. Curtsies and thanks followed in her wake, grateful surprise in the voices of the people. They had not expected such kindness from a noble. Arthur watched it all from his chambers.

Arthur failed his next test and the grain stores rotted. Unable to ignore his taunts and a slave to his pride, Arthur killed the thief that bore Camelot’s fresh water. His failure has doomed the kingdom. Merlin knew that Arthur was stubborn and pig-headed, and annoying but he cares deeply about his people, more than he cares about himself and she also knew that he would not forgive himself for making his people suffer.

When Uther gave the order to stop distributing food to the people, Arthur was livid, unable to understand why his father would damn the people he had sworn under oath to protect. Uther went on a rampage about starving before he asked his enemies for help, thoughts only of the kingdom’s reputation and his own pride. Arthur refused to give the order and told Uther that he would have to give that order himself. 

After the argument with his father, Arthur sought out Merlin, found her standing on a balcony, hair moving in the breeze as she stared down at the line of starving commoners. He stood beside her but she didn’t acknowledge him, Arthur knew she was still angry about their last conversation. The wing carried her flowery scent over to him and he breathed it in, feeling calmer for being near her. He looked down at his people, “They do not yet know there is worse to come.”

“What do you mean?” She asked it without heat, but she still wouldn’t look at him.

“My father is going to stop distributing food to the people,” Finally, Merlin looked, and this time her displeasure was not directed at him. “They are to be left to starve. I had the chance to lift the curse and I failed them.”

Arthur was overcome with relief to see the softness return to those blue eyes, shoulders lighter without the weight of her scorn. “You weren’t to know you were being tested.”

“My people are starving. Camelot is on the verge of collapse and it is all my doing.” Merlin’s hand found his on the railing, placed atop his own while her fingers curled around him palm. Arthur’s fingers wrapped around her hand, small and soft. He squeezed, thankful for her support even after he had been so dismissive of her.

Once night carpeted the land, Merlin snuck out into the forest by the castle, waiting patiently for Anhora to show up. She had sent a pulse of magic out in summons so she had no doubt he would show up in response. “You wanted to talk with me, Emrys?”

“Yes, the people are starving they will soon be dead.”

“You must believe me when I say it gives me no please to see your people suffering.” Merlin couldn’t help but notice his choice of words. They were not her people, they were Arthur’s, she didn’t comment on it but was a curious thing.

“If it pains you, I ask that you give Arthur another chance. He has accepted his responsibility and he will prove himself worthy and lift the curse.” 

“You have faith in Arthur?”

“I trust him with my life.” Her voice was strong and sure, full of certainty as she said it. Anhora contemplated her for a moment and it would seem he found what he was looking for because he told her: “Arthur must go to Labyrinth of Gedref. There he will face a final test. If he fails, there is no hope and the curse will destroy Camelot.”

Merlin bowed her head to the keeper of unicorns, “Thank you.” 

\- -  
Arthur was grateful when Merlin delivered the news the following morning, didn’t bother to question how it was she had bargained for the chance to save his kingdom. He told Merlin to stay put and help the people in anyway she could before he was riding out of the gates, toward salvation or starvation. It took most of the morning to reach his destination, unaware that Merlin had followed him until he found her at labyrinth’s end.

Waves crashed soothingly against the rocky shore as he approached the rickety table she was sat at, exasperated at her inability to follow orders. “Merlin?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Let her go. I’ll take your test, but not until she’s released.”

“That is not possible,” Anhora said passively. “Merlin is part of the test. Please, sit.” Arthur didn’t sit. “If you refuse the test you will have failed and Camelot will be destroyed.” Arthur sat, placing his sword across the table as he did. 

“I thought I told you to stay at home.” Arthur said grudgingly, leaning onto his forearms. Merlin didn’t say anything, but she did look the tiniest bit sorry. Arthur sighed. “Let’s get on with it.”

“There are two goblets before you. One of the goblets contains a deadly poison, the other, a harmless liquid. All the liquid from both goblets must be drunk, but each of you may only drink from a single goblet.”

“Let’s think about this,” Merlin prefaced. “What if I drink from my goblet first?”

“If it’s poisoned you’ll die.” Arthur said matter-of-factly.

“If it’s not then you’ll have to drink from yours and you’ll die. There must be a way around it.” 

“We have to find a way to determine which one is poisoned then I’ll drink it.”

“I will be the one to drink it.” Merlin wasn’t about to let the Prince of Camelot die, not when she’d worked so hard to keep him alive. “It’s more important that you live, you’re the future king, I’m just another courtier.”

Arthur shook his head. “I had no idea were you so keen to die for me.”

“Trust me, I can hardly believe it myself.” That got a laugh, but it was short lived. Arthur looked up her briefly before dropping his eyes once more. 

“I’m glad you’re here, Merlin.” He sighed in resignation and the solution finally dawned on Merlin, who flipped a hand at the goblets.

“I’ve got it! We pour all the liquid into one goblet, then we can be sure it’s poisoned, then all the liquid can be drunk and it will be from a single goblet.”

“You never cease to surprise me.” Arthur had mind his mind up so he took a moment to appreciate the sight before him. Her dress was blue like the ocean behind her, reflected in her intelligent eyes as the wind carded through her dark hair. “You’re a lot smarter than you look.”

“Is that actually a compliment?” Arthur’s eyes flicked to something over her shoulder as he said: “Look out!” And by the time she realised there was nothing there, he had mixed the goblets. “No, I will drink it!”

“As if I’d let you.” His hand was tense around the goblet’s stem and Merlin wished she hadn’t fell for his obvious ploy, wished she wasn’t about to watch him die. “Arthur, listen to me-“

“You know me, Merlin, I never listen to you.” Arthur raised the goblet to his lips and titled it, swallowing back the liquid that flooded his mouth. His shoulders went slack, face blank as his eyes rolled back into his head, body slumping to the floor. “Arthur!”

Merlin rushed to his said, cradling his head off the hard rock. She leant over him, repeating his name over and over but getting no response. Unable to see the rise and fall of his chest underneath the armour, salty tears gathered in her saxe eyes in a cruel mockery of the peaceful ocean behind them. “You’ve killed him! I was meant to protect him!” She yelled at Anhora, angry that he showed no remorse.

“He’s not dead.”

“What?”

“He has merely consumed a sleeping draught, he will come round shortly.” Relief washed over her, blinking to clear the tears from her eyes. “A unicorn is pure of heart. If you kill one, you must make amends but proving that you are also pure of heart. Arthur was willing to sacrifice his life to save yours and he had proven what is truly in his heart.”

Merlin looked down at Arthur’s slack features, tenderly reached down to brush his fringe away from his face. “The curse will be lifted.” Later, when Merlin and Arthur rode through the gates of Camelot, is was to see villages bringing in the harvest. The people’s relief was palpable in the air and the sun shone once more. When Arthur suggested that they lay the unicorn to rest by burying the horn, Merlin and teared up and pulled Arthur into a tight hug, which he was all too happy to return, glad to be back in her good graces.

The two of them ventured into the forest, working together to build a rock grave in which Arthur lay down red silk before reverently placing the horn on top. They laid another piece of silk over it before closing up the grave with more stones. “I should never have ended you life. I’m sorry.” 

The sound of those words brought a new wave of pride to Merlin, whose eyes shone in admiration. Sensing a presence, Merlin gazed up from her rock stacking and stood up slowly. “Arthur…”

Arthur looked up at her first, rising to her side and Merlin pointed. They both stared in wonder, unable to believe their eyes until Anhora’s voiced echoed through the trees. _"When he who kills a unicorn proves himself to be pure of heart, the unicorn will live again.”_ It trotted off into the forest and they watched it go, Arthur looping and arm over her shoulders and pulling her into his side, Merlin leant her head against him with a soft smile.

Slowly but surely, Arthur was earning her respect and if he was to look deep into her eyes, he would see it’s growth. It had first flickered to life when he knighted Lancelot, and with his repentance of killing the unicorn, that flicker grew into something bigger. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original spells:
> 
> “Betaecan se wóþbora ansión” = "Show the seer's sight"


	2. Season 2

“How am I to prove myself if my opponents aren’t trying their hardest?” Arthur slammed open the doors, tossing his helmet down onto the table with contempt. Merlin jumped at the intrusion, head snapping up from the book Gaius lent her to glower at Arthur.

“Hello to you too…” Smacking the cover closed pointedly, Merlin discarded the book onto the widow seat as she vacated it, abandoning her quest for peace and fresh air in light of Arthur’s desire to cause a ruckus. “I’m sure it’s not happening all the time.” She placated.

“So it’s happening some of the time?”

“Probably, yeah.” Arthur’s face contorted in annoyance. “I mean, they wouldn’t want to hurt their precious prince.” Arthur rolled his eyes at the sarcasm as he impatiently tore off his gloves and chucked them onto her bed. She followed them with a frown as Arthur started complaining again.

“All my life I’ve been treated as if I’m special. I just want to be treated like everyone else.”

“Special in the head perhaps,” Merlin muttered, which earns her scowl. Arthur begins battling the buckles of his vambrace, irritation making his fingers jerky as he continued his whinging. One vambrace bounced obnoxiously onto the floor, accompanied shortly by the other one and Merlin crossed her arms. Looking bored, she casually suggested that Arthur compete under a fake identity.

She hadn’t expected him to take the idea and fly with it and soon he was churning out a plan to compete under a guise and fool people into thinking he wasn’t in the tournament. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to sway his mind, she let herself be looped into his plan and soon thereafter, she was asking Gwen if she could pretty please let Arthur stay with her for a few days, just while the jousting tournament was on. But not before she collected his strewn about armour and shoved him out of her chambers with it. 

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this!” Gwen whisper-yelled as Arthur surveyed her little cottage. Merlin grinned innocently and fluttered her lashes and Gwen sighed quietly. She floated over to Arthur to escape her judgement. “You can’t really expect me to stay here, Merlin?” Merlin swatted at his shoulder.

“I think you’ll cope without your big bed and soft pillows, don’t be rude.” She left Arthur with Gwen, whose incredulous eyes followed Merlin out of the house. She did feel bad for leaving those two alone, Gwen was far too polite to tell Arthur off for being an arse but Merlin had to go and find somebody that would parade around for Arthur. When she returned a couple of hours later with a grotty farmer in tow, Gwen looked decidedly hard done by so she offered up an apologetic smile.

Merlin and Gwen got to work on tidying the man up and shoving him into some spare chainmail she’d nicked from the armoury. With the tunic slipped over his head, Merlin presented Sir William and Deira with a flourish. He looked the part, but now he had to act it. 

“Imagine you’re really arrogant,” Merlin looked over at Arthur and smiled sweetly, he glared back at her. “Knights like to think they’re so much better than everyone else.” Gwen snickered.

“It’s not arrogance, ignore her, she’s an idiot. A knight must behave with honour and nobility.” They were at it for what felt like the longest hour of their lives, but eventually Sir William had been sufficiently schooled into knighthood. Merlin and Gwen sat side by side in the stands while Uther commenced a tedious speech. 

“Knights of the realm, welcome to Camelot. You have trained for this day for many years and it will put your skill to the test. Today you will fight for glory and for honour, for this is the ultimate test of courage and it will be the measure of you as men.” The crowd cheered and with that, it began. 

Arthur won all of his matches, but she didn’t expect anything less. When she paid him a visit in the tent at the end of the day, his face was flushed with adrenaline and there was a boyish grin brightening his face, hair damp with sweat. Outside, the people cheered.

Seeing as Gwen had been so generous in sharing her home, it was the least Merlin could do to join her for dinner so that she wouldn’t have to suffer Arthur alone. She was scandalised to see the tightness around Arthur’s mouth as he tried to mask a grimace. Gwen’s food may not have been palace-grade but it definitely wasn’t the worst thing she had ever eaten. As rude as it was, Merlin did find it mildly humorous that he was struggling this much after one day.

Gwen bustled outside to discard the scraps so Merlin gathered up the plates, leaning back against the bench to observe Arthur. He looked uncomfortable and out of place, unsure of himself. “Why are you doing this?”

Arthur lifted his head, taking in Merlin’s crossed arms and curious eyes as he searched for the right words. “I fear that people respect me just because of my title.”

“I don’t believe that’s true of everyone.” He graced her with a small smile and Merlin didn’t miss the flash of vulnerability across his eyes. 

“When I’m competing as William, my title doesn’t matter. Nobody gives me any special treatment,” He shook his head lightly. “So when I win this tournament, it will be because I deserve it. Not because I’m Prince Arthur.” 

Gwen’s return put an end to Arthur’s openness and he got up, twisting his arms around to work out the kink in his shoulder. “I think I’ll take a bath.” 

Gwen shot Merlin a dirty look, ““That might be difficult, I don’t have a bath tub.”

“Really? Perhaps you could prepare me a bowl of hot water. I take it you have a bowl?” Merlin’s eyes almost rolled out of her head.

“I think I can manage a bowl.” Gwen clipped and Merlin could scarcely believe how quickly he went from earnest to entitled. Merlin waited until Gwen had slipped out again before she asked: “Do you have any idea how insulting you just were to Gwen?”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that Gwen’s sleeping on sacks, Arthur, I’ve no doubt you slobbered on her bed without bothering to ask.” Arthur had the decency to look wrong-footed, if not affronted.

“Why didn’t she say anything?”

“How could she? You’re prince Arthur,” His face shuttered off, eyes going blank but not before Merlin saw at the hurt he tried to smother under indifference. “You shouldn’t need to be told not to be selfish. You’re not a child.” Merlin nibbled on her lip.

“Is there anything else you’d like to say to me? Please, I’d like to hear it.” Tone goading, daring her to speak against him and who was Merlin to deny the prince?

“You have no idea, do you?”

“About what?” Gods help her, he was being particularly oblivious this evening. 

“How rude and arrogant you can be.” She preluded, met with a carefully blank stare while Arthur waited for her to finish the diatribe. “This is her home, you are her guest. I know you’re used to more luxury but that’s not an excuse to be so rude. You say titles don’t matter and yet you behave like a prince and expect Gwen to wait on you like a servant. Saying it means nothing if your actions betray you. Would it kill you to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ once in a while?”

The corner of Arthur’s eyes pulled together in a faint squint, like he was processing what he’d heard but couldn’t quite understand it. His brows had furrowed at some point and his mouth had a displeased downturn. He spoke slowly and condescendingly when he asked, “Is there anything else you’d like to add?”

“No, I think that’s it.” Merlin dropped her head, biting at her lip once more, but it meant she missed the flash of pain that managed to slip through the cracks of Arthur’s carefully curated facade. 

“You’re right.” She chanced a glance through her lashes, wary of the sudden change in attitude. Merlin cocked her head when he didn’t say anything further and the movement sent him to speech. “She invited me into her home and I’ve behaved appallingly.”

Her lips curved slowly into something amused. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” Arthur’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

“Really?”

“Well, perhaps a little.” Arthur chuckled despite himself and leaned into Merlin’s space, pawing at her shoulder to spin her around before marching her to the door. “I’ll make it up to her, you’ll see.” Merlin was pushed lightly out of the house. “Now go back to your chambers and get some sleep, can’t have you dozing off in the stands tomorrow.”

\- -

With the second day of jousting finished, Merlin decided to visit the markets. She smiled at the merchants, taking the time to make sure all was well as she always did. The people had grown used to her frequenting, always delighted by her unrestrained amicability. A tug at her skirts drew her attention away from the new silks and she found a shy little girl at her knee, clutching a handful of purple daisies.

Merlin bobbed down, “Hello, what’s your name?” The little girl looked over her shoulder, Merlin spied a small gaggle of girls peering out from behind a stall, friends no doubt. She offered a warm smile to encourage an answer.

“Amelia, miss.” There was a streak of dirt across her jaw and her clothes were worse for wear, but Merlin thought she was the cutest little thing. “Um, I wanted to give your hair some flowers?”

“I think that sounds wonderful.” Merlin grasped the thin hand swinging shyly by the girl’s side and led her over to the market well, that way they wouldn’t be squatting in the dirt. Amelia beckoned her mates over and then there was an entourage of children plaiting her hair. When they were done, a thick braid crested her head and flowed down her back, a neatly organised speckling of daisies nested in her hair. “Thank you very much, girls.”

The group giggled and fled back into the crowd and Merlin’s grin lingered on her face, the fresh scent of fresh flowers weaving around her. Her eyes found Gwen, looking confused and ill at ease. Looping through the throng, Gwen seemed to come out of a daze when Merlin appeared from nowhere asking, “Are you okay?”

“Arthur’s cooking me dinner.” Merlin’s brain short-circuited, unable to process what she was hearing.

“Arthur’s cooking?” Gwen was bemused, making a face and press her lips together, brows climbing. Merlin’s head slowly swivelled the other way, staring down the ally with grave concern. After a brisk strut, she cautiously eased open Gwen’s door only to see Arthur crouched eye-level with the back end of a splayed chook. She cleared her throat. 

“Merlin! Thank God,”

“Gwen says you’re cooking…” Her scepticism was unmistakable, eyes shadowed by a dubious frown.

“I need you to fetch me two dinners from the palace kitchen.”

“So you’re not cooking?”

“No,” He turned back to the bench. “Gwen doesn’t need to know that. As far as she’s concerned, dinner will be prepared and cooked by me.” Merlin’s mind struggled to catch up and her eyes flicked sideways in bafflement.

“Hang on, is this your way of making it up to her?” Arthur peered at her over his shoulder, lips pressed together and he nodded curtly. Well that made more sense. Merlin bounced her head, unclasping her cloak to drape it over the back of a chair, lifting a hand against the hair hanging over her face.

Merlin snorted, “You’re hopeless, you know that?” Arthur’s eyes began to nictate, looking lost and insulted, Merlin heaved a sigh. A trio of steps brought her to Arthur’s side by the bench, “She’ll know it was cooked in the kitchens, Arthur, she’s not daft. Move over.” She shoved at his arm.

“We,” She looked pointedly at him, hand flicking between the two of them emphatically. “Are going to make her dinner.” Merlin reached up and started hunting through the cupboards. Arthur spotted the little purple flowers laced through her braid and found them to compliment the fabric of her dress.

“You can’t be serious?” She stopped rummaging for herbs to gave him a bored look. “I can’t cook.”

“No, I can’t imagine you can. You needn’t dredge up your ineptitude, Arthur, it’s unbecoming.” Arthur scoffed his offence and make to argue, cut of by Merlin’s instruction, “Now, hand me that dish would you? And go get the fireplace started.” 

Cut off and petulant, Arthur passed off the pot and dragged his feet to the fireplace. Merlin’s persistent rifling made for a homely ambience as Arthur struck the flint impatiently. “How do you know how to cook anyway, you lived on an estate, surely you had kitchen staff?”

“We did,” A spark caught and Arthur sheltered it, nurturing the ember into a small flame. “When I was a girl, I spent a lot of time in the kitchens, it was the best hiding place for escaping my studies. I frequented them enough to learn a few tricks.”

The flame undulated into a merry fire, crackling happy as it snapped up the wood. Arthur rose from his crouch, knees cracking with the blaze as he did. He rejoined Merlin at the kitchen bench, admiring the play of light across her sharp features, softened by the low light. “So your best friend was a servant and you spent your childhood learning to cook?”

He delivered the salt into her grabby hand. “Among other things.” The herb-stuffed chicken was deposited into the pot and handed off to Arthur with orders to place it over the fire, Merlin tossing in some salted potatoes as a parting gift. “I never liked the idea of relying on other people for everything. I think it’s important for a woman to know how to look after herself.”

“You surprise me, Merlin.” She hummed her agreement as vegetables were quartered by her knife, Arthur’s eyes were drawn to the tongue that dashed out to wet her lips. He swallowed. “There’s something about you I can’t quite put my finger on.”

Merlin huffed out a light laugh, accompanied by a good-natured head shake, the movement dislodging the hair from around her ear and depositing it in her face. Arthur’s arm moved of its own accord and his fingers hooked the hair back unthinkingly. 

Her breath hitched, quietly enough that it would’ve gone unheard had Arthur not been so close. With his hand frozen mid air, Merlin’s neck curved until their eyes met, breath ghosting over the tenuous shake of Arthur’s fingers. Their faces were near enough that if Arthur was to lean forward just so, his nose would brush hers. And if he went further still, perhaps he could catch her parted lips with his own.

But before he could dare, the knife clattered from Merlin’s lax palm and the rapid noise shattered the climate of baited anticipation. Merlin blinked, drew a breath and ducked her head to hide the smattering on pink across her cheeks and Arthur swallowed thickly against the obscure feeling in his throat, an odd brew of disappointment? Merlin stayed until the chicken was primed for consumption, but then she was gone in a flurry of fabric and Arthur breathed in the flowery scent she left behind.

\- -

Merlin was headed towards her chambers when she happened upon a dark party. The king looked displeased, but he usually did so she went closer, the knights in company bowed to her as she came behind Gaius. “Is all well?” Curious eyes fell upon the body, folded into a chest. 

Sir Leon gently pulled her away from the sight while he addressed the king, “An intruder was spotted in the lower town not too long ago.”

“Then I fear it’s true,” Uther confessed. “Odin has sent an assassin to kill Arthur.”

“An assassin?” A hand came to rest against her chest, worry pulling at her brows. Gaius gave a swift affirmation and the king directed his next question at her.

“Have you any word from Arthur since he left for the Northern Borders? I know the two of you have grown…close.” There was something in his cool grey eyes that Merlin couldn’t quite place, an emotion she had not yet seen on the king.

“No. None.”

“With this assassin in Camelot we must be thankful Arthur isn’t here.” Uther sends Leon away with orders to search the entire town and after a brief exchange with Gaius, Merlin resumes her quest for sleep. Though her slumber is restless, plagued by the threat to Arthur’s life.

\- -

It was the final day of the tournament, one match to end it. She visited Morgana after breakfast, deprived of her snide remarks and quick wit. She longed to divulge Arthur’s plight but it was better his presence in Camelot remain a secret. After a healthy dose of Morgana, she snaked through town until the familiar comfort of Gwen’s cottage came into sight, promptly bursting through the door. Arthur jerked and Merlin caught the smoothing of his features to banish the contemplative frown that had been there. “There’s this thing called knocking, Merlin, you should try it.”

Arthur surveyed the woman leaning against the door, yellow dress making her light eyes all the more vibrant, loose hair framing her face, free of its usual bonds. Merlin scrunched her nose at his suggestion and moved closer. “Gwen’s out.”

“I know, I just saw her with Morgana.” A lull of silence swept in, loud in its hush.

“She, uh, she loved dinner.” Merlin heard the absent thank you and beamed and Arthur was flooded with affection at the sight of it. A smile brighter than the sun and a thousand times warmer. It was overwhelming and he escaped by saying: “Though I’ll not do it again, that’s what servants are for.”

Her smile vanished and for a moment he was allowed recess from his emotions, but the swirl of disappoint in her eyes only made him face different ones. A sharp pinch of dismay and the sting of shame ripped through him and he back-tracked, desperate to lift the sad expression from her face and restore the twinkle that belonged in her eye. “I didn’t mean it like that…”

“Then how did you mean it?”

“What does it matter?” Something harsh unfurled in his chest as Merlin’s eyes only grew more distant, more upset. He hated the bitterness that rose in his throat, alarmed to recognise the feeling of having failed someone he admires. Merlin stepped closer still and her warmth was offset by the torment in her eyes.

“I thought you had shown some humility, you did something kind for her even though she’s just a servant. A good king should respect his people no matter who they are.” She made to leave but Arthur’s hand encircled her arm to prevent her absence and she looked up into his pleading eyes.

“Merlin,” His hands were gentle in their guidance, commanding her body to face his own, so close that her neck ached with the strain of looking up. “I know I have much to learn. There are some things I’m terrible at, cooking being one of them, but also, knowing what to say to someone I care about.”

Her eyes lost their severity and Arthur was relieved to see the disappointment ebbing away, couldn’t bare for her to be upset with him a moment longer. They were so blue, brighter than any jewel, and if he didn’t know before, he knew it now; he was a goner. What could he to do but fall when she looked at him like that? Fond and soft and raw with emotion. “One more match and the tournament will be over.”

Merlin blinked, outrageously long lashes punctuating the movement and she smiled, open and warm and Arthur knew she had forgiven him his shortcomings. “You can go back to being Prince Arthur.”

Her hand rose between them, lithe fingers offering him her favour. A yellow length of fabric, cut from the same cloth as her dress, it was a question and statement all at once. But she had asked in a subtle way, without words and without restraint, but her proposal was hesitant, afraid of rejection. Arthur exhaled at the weight of it, but there was nothing uncertain about his movements when his hand enclosed hers, smooth fabric, a barrier between their skin but the tangible proof of mutual admiration. “I thought you might wear it for luck.”

Arthur ran his thumb over her knuckles, yellow material bunching under the movement and Merlin was still watching him through her lashes, the faint hint of hesitancy had vanished with Arthur’s acceptance. “I’ll wear it with pride.”

Neither of them said anything, but they both knew what this was. An acknowledgment of what had budded between them and an admission of feeling. He would have to wear it under his armour, lest people think Sir William had won her favour, but it didn’t matter to Arthur. He knew that wearing it was a declaration in itself, and more importantly, Merlin would know that he was wearing it and that’s all that really matters. Arthur slid the material out from between their interlocked fingers with his other hand, not yet willing to relinquish his hold on Merlin.

As he bowed his head, Arthur used the warmth of Merlin’s hand to anchor himself before he pressed his lips to hers. While not unsure of his welcome, he was still relieved that she pushed back in confirmation of everything she hadn’t said. The kiss was languid, devoid of urgency in its gentle pressure. Merlin’s lips were flushed with heat, velvet in their unhurried movements. He breathed her in; the comfortable clash of vanilla and rose familiar in his nose. She felt like home.

He pulled away only when his lungs demanded it but his lips already yearned for more. Their hands had not strayed and Arthur raised them up to press a chaste kiss to the back of her palm. Giving himself over to another in a way he hadn’t before no longer scared him as it used to, instead he found that it felt an awful lot like the missing piece of the puzzle slotting into place. “I must go.” Arthur said, and Merlin nodded in agreement, they could already hear the fleet of commoners roaring in the stands.

\- -

Arthur clutched at the unpleasant throb of pain, gritting his teeth against it as Merlin pushed a bandage against the wound. “I have to be back on the courts in five minutes, or I forfeit the match.” His voice was rough.

“You can’t possibly joust, you’re too badly injured.” Merlin tried to reason, fingers wet with blood but Arthur shook his head adamantly.

“I have never withdrawn from a match. I do not intend to start now.” Of all the times to be stubborn…

“You would risk your life to save your pride? You have nothing to prove, least of all to me.” Merlin knew he wouldn’t be persuaded by the determined set of his jaw.

“I have everything to prove, to myself.” Arthur slipped his helmet back on and pushed himself help, striding out of the tent breathlessly. When he got on his horse, he was already starting to slump over but Merlin handed him a lance at his request.

Arthur prodded his horse into motion and Merlin could only sweep back into the stands and watch. He was weak, she could tell from afar, it was a wonder he was still in the saddle at all and there was blood running in stark rivulets down the front of his armour. Merlin’s blood ran cold when a blade popped through the end of Sir Alynor’s lance and her magic rose instinctively, “Onbinde þa téage.”

The girth strap was blown apart, a disorientated Sir Alynor missed his mark and Arthur’s lance splintered against him, the man’s neck snapped cleanly as he fell from his horse. The crowd erupted into cheers and Merlin escaped from the mob and rushed across the sand to Sir Alynor, only to discover the face of a stranger. She met Arthur in the tent. 

“You were jousting against the assassin, he killed Sir Alynor and took his place.”

A surge of noise from outside demanded a champion. “The people are waiting for their champion, time to reveal yourself.” But Arthur made no move to do so, instead, he told Sir William that he must be the one to collect the trophy. “I thought this was going to be your moment of glory?”

“Perhaps, this is a time for humility.” Merlin’s eyes glimmered with pride and a spark Arthur now recognised as respect. The laughed from behind the crowd as Sir William showed off for the people with a ridiculous grin on his unkempt face.

“Odin must be made to pay for this, we must strike back.” Uther decreed later, when Arthur announced his formal return to the court, blood soaked bandage explained by a lie regarding the assassin. 

“Surely you understand the grief he feels for the loss of his son? We should try to make peace with him, there’s been enough bloodshed.” Uther blinked like he hadn’t even considered that as an option. Merlin was starting to see the real Arthur shine through, could see the king he was destined to be as she peeled away the layers of his facade. 

\- -

“Good morning, my lady.” The curtains yawned open to bathe her chambers in light and Merlin squinted at it. The sun provided feeble warmth in the throws of autumn so she was grateful when the servant shuffled over to stoke the hearth to life.

“Meredith, how are you? Cook still giving you grief for the limes?” She asked teasingly, slipping behind the changing screen to dress herself. Meredith was one of the older servants, a spritely middle aged woman with a Scottish lilt. Merlin listened to her putter around the chambers.

“Ah, she loves you, Merlin, makes her day when I tell her how much ye love them lemon cakes of hers. Though she’s still mighty miffed about them limes, mind you, get a right nasty scowl whenever I get too close to the pantry now. Like it was ma fault they got limes instead of lemons.”

Merlin stepped around the screen and was swiftly ushered to the table and plonked into her chair, breakfast platter appearing in front of her. “Eat, child, thin as a beanpole, you are.” Merlin rolled her eyes but reached for the blackberries, grabbing a hunk of bread on the way. Ensconced as she was, Merlin missed most of what Meredith said next, only managing to catch the tail end of “…Morgana, poor child.”

“Morgana?” Breakfast forgotten, Merlin whirled around in search of Meredith, found her brushing down the vanity mirror. 

“Haven’t ye heard? The Lady Morgana was attacked in the wee hours of the morning, king suspects sorcery.” Her chair screeched across the floor with her rising, and Meredith seemed to catch on, hurrying over to the wardrobe to fetch a cloak. Once fastened, she swept from her chambers and flew through the hallways.

Upon arrival, there was guards stationed by the door, double the usual. They didn’t hinder her entrance, acknowledged her with small bows. Morgana opened the door to her looking exhausted and terrified. She opened her arms and Morgana fell into them gratefully. “I wanted to check you were okay.”

“I’m sorry, its usually Gwen that has to deal with me when I’m like this.” She retreated from the embrace, embarrassed, but Merlin reached out to catch her hand.

“Its alright. Maybe I could help.” Morgana gave an empty laugh.

“I doubt that.”

“You’d be surprised.” Morgana gazed at her. “I understand how frightening all this must be for you, especially for you.”

“Why especially for me?”

“You’re the kings ward, you know his hatred of magic better than anyone.”

Morgana sucked in a sharp breath, eyes growing scared, “That’s what you think has been happening to me? The dreams, the fire, you think it was magic?”

“Of a kind, yes. It will take time before you’re able to understand it fully, let alone use it” Merlin offered up a reassuring smile and cupped both hands around the trembling one she held. “This isn’t something to be afraid of.”

“It is if you have Uther as a guardian. If he found out he’d have me killed.”

“I won’t let that happen, Morgana.”

“I’ve always been taught that magic is evil. That it corrupts your soul.” The tremor of her voice, the shake of her hands, it was all so uncharacteristic.

“Just because he decrees it, doesn’t make it so. Magic isn’t a dark art that needs to be shrouded in secrecy, it can be a force for good.” Resolved in her decision, Merlin let go of Morgana to clasp her hands together, lifting them to her mouth. She held Morgana’s eye as the wordless spell took shape, watched her shoulder’s lift defensively at the shock of gold.

When she opened her hands, a luminous blue butterfly flittered out, wings beating at the air. It traced a circle around them before taking rest on the tip of Morgana’s nose and she laughed in delight, awed green eyes meeting her own. “You’ve magic?”

Merlin nodded proudly, “And I use it for good, as is its intention.” The look on Morgana’s face made it worth it, chased away every ounce of doubt she had about revealing herself.

“Thank you, Merlin. I know now who I really am, and that it isn’t something to be scared of and for that I couldn’t be more grateful.” They embraced once more. “Who knows, perhaps one day people will see magic as a force for good.”

\- -

As thanks and a means of escaping the confines of the castle, Morgana invited Merlin out for a ride and some fresh air. Gwen was to join them, of course, and the three of them nattered away for hours, no doubt boring the guards half to death. They were to return by dusk but with the whole afternoon at their disposal, they talk about anything and everything, but Merlin fell quite at some point and the girls took notice. “You look troubled, Merlin.” She looked at up Gwen’s voice.

“I’m fine.” She laughed it off, hoping they would leave it well enough alone, too big an ask apparently because Morgana chimed in too.

“You’re very secretive these days.” Morgana said with a teasing smile. “I’m beginning to think there’s a man involved.”

Merlin scoffed, “When do I get to meet any decent men?”

Morgana opened her mouth but before she could speak, a cacophony of shouts heralded the unwelcome arrival of mercenaries, they spilt from the tree line into the narrow valley. A coordinated attack, an ambush and Merlin’s hands were tied, unable to protect her friends in the presence of Uther’s men. Morgana was dragged from her horse kicking and screaming, “Get off of me!”

Merlin dismounted and slapped Ronin’s flank to send him home, she would never forgive herself if anything happened to him, that horse was all she had left of her father. They managed to slip through the fingers of their assailants and they bolted through the trees, but it wasn’t long until they heard their pursuit. If they could not outrun them, Merlin would make sure her friends make it home safely so she slowed to a stop.

“Merlin, come on!” Morgana yelled but she didn’t move, so Gwen and Morgana stopped too. “Merlin?”

“Go, both of you.” Gwen shook her head with concerning speed while Morgana started a vehement protest to the contrary. The distant racket of mercenaries grew closer and it wouldn’t be long before they were damned. “Go!”

“I’ll not leave you!” Shouted Morgana, outraged at the idea. 

“I can protect myself, now please, go!” Gwen caught her meaning and pulled at Morgana’s arm until she moved, realisation in her eyes now, too. Merlin gave them both a knowing smile and watched them run, relieved at the prospect of their safety. Her own was not so certain so she fought the mercenaries one by one, but there was too many pouring in and ultimately she was overpowered, a sword hilt coming down hard on the back of her head rendered her unconscious.

\- -

Morgana ran blindly, not sure if she was headed in the right direction but determined to get as far away as possible from those heathens. She had Gwen’s hand in a punishing grip as they leap over roots and rocks, drawing to a halt only when she heard the ground snapping under someone’s feet.

She pulled Gwen close, raising a finger over her lips to stay quiet. The footsteps got closer before they stopped and Morgana’s heart was racing a million miles an hour, eyes darting around but unable to see anyone through the tangle of branches. When Arthur stepped out with his crossbow at the ready, her shoulders sagged with relief. 

“Where’s Merlin?” All she could do was shake her head and grip Gwen’s hand, too distraught to speak but Arthur must’ve understood for worry consumed his features and a stressed hand messed his hair. 

\- -

When awareness found her again she was in a tent, if it could even be called that, more a collection of rags than anything. A harsh sliver of light cut across her face before a shadow befell her and squinted up at an unsightly man. Merlin stood quickly but the motion made her head pound something vicious, when she fingered the back, her hair was tacky with blood. “Lady Morgana, nice of you to join us.”

“I am not-“

“Yes, you are, and you best start acting like it. Hengist has never seen the Lady Morgana and unless you’re keen on death, you’ll keep your mouth shut.” Grubby hands snatched her face, dirt caked nails leaving painful little crescents on her skin as he turned her head side to side. A chill dripped down her spine when his thumb swiped across her bottom lip suggestively. “Hm, or maybe you can keep it open for me, you’ve got the lips for it.”

Merlin lurched away from his grip and his nails left pink scratches across her cheek, the sharp sting of them smothered under a wave of adrenaline and she sneered viciously, “If you so much as breath on me again, you’ll regret it.” She spat at his feet for good measure but it only served to worsen the situation. 

One of the man’s hands darted forward to enclose her throat while the other one pointed angrily in her face. “Hold your tongue, woman, or I’ll hold it for you.” Merlin tried to repeal him, but her magic was hazy with concussion and didn’t rise to her call and panic flooded her. His hand tightened just enough to stress her airways and his other hand trailed down to her breast, groping to hurt.

“Kendrick!” The man’s attention was diverted and he dropped her like a rag, using the hold on her neck to push her down. Merlin wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of coughing or gasping for breath, but once he was gone she did. She closed her eyes against the urge to cry and raised one shaking hand up, but dropped it before it could graze against the sore skin of her neck. 

\- -

“How can you be so heartless? Merlin is most the loyal person you’d ever meet. She’s been more than a friend to all of us, you’d leave her with those animals?”

“Morgana…”

“Have you no shame? Do you think only of yourself?”

“Morgana…” 

“I didn’t know you were a gutless coward, Arthur Pendragon.”

“Morgana!” She finally ceased her attack, though she still glared at him viciously. “Perhaps if you stopped shouting at me for one second, you’d notice I am packing.” He placed a water skin into his bag for emphasis and Morgana looked down guilty.

“You’re going after her?”

“Of course I’m going after her, what do you take me for? I couldn’t disagree with father in public.” Arthur shouldered the bag and walked to the door

“Arthur…” He paused at the threshold. “Bring her home.”

\- -

Hengist was a rat of a man, foraging through the spread of food and grabbing at the undercooked meat with his filthy paws, bloody juice cascading over his whiskered face, soaking his beard in filth. He stood up and gestured, unidentified fluid flying off his fingertips and Merlin cringed away from him in disgust. “Our royal guest, Lady Morgana, has grown bored.” A heavy hand splattered onto her shoulder and she revolted from the touch, “She needs entertaining.”

A cage ate up most of the floor space and a brute started parading around inside, yelling to rile the gathering of heathens. The challenger was called forth and Merlin’s eyes nearly left her head when Lance, of all people, entered the ring. His eyes found hers through the bars and he cocked an eyebrow before he claimed his victory. 

Later, when she was huddled on a pathetic bed, fending of frigid air with steady waves of magic, a voice echoed over her cell. “Merlin!” It whisper-yelled. She twisted around, craning her neck up until she saw the grate in the roof. On her tip-toes, she found Lancelot crouched on the floor, face distorted through the metal.

“Hey Lance.”

“I couldn’t believe my eyes, I thought my mind was deceiving me.” She laughed through her nose, glad to see a familiar face. His eyes darkened as his fingers threaded through the grate, moving questioning toward her throat, “Your neck…”

“I’m fine.” Lance didn’t believe her for a second, but he didn’t push it and for that she was thankful.

“Why does Hengist think you are Lady Morgana?”

“He believes he is holding Morgana to ransom. When no ransom is paid, he’ll realise the truth and he will throw me to his beasts.”

“I won’t let that happen. I will not allow you to die here” She smiled then, at the familiarity of it all. Lance’s noble heart bleeding into the everyday. Merlin tossed her head at him.

“What are you doing here? Can’t imagine you’d be one of Hengist’s man.”

“No, never. There are few opportunities for men like me, I make a living the only way that I know, with a sword in my hand. It seems it is my destiny to entertain people like Hengist.”

“I don’t believe that to be true. You’ll be a Knight of Camelot, Lance, just you wait and see.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I cannot serve under Uther.”

“He will not be king forever.”

“What of Guinevere?” Merlin grinned knowingly.

“She’s well, still pining like you it would seem.” A door crashed open somewhere nearby and they both followed the sound with cautious eyes, light mood devoured by tension. Merlin shooed Lance away, though he was reluctant to leave her. It was sweet, really, she just knew that his honourable heart would be the death of him one day, too selfless for his own good. Hengist arrived in Lance’s wake, and loomed over her, wondering after her ransom and informing her that if Uther didn’t cough up the cash by dawn tomorrow, this stinking cell would be the last thing she ever saw.

So, after one miserable attempt at escape, she and Lance were bound back to back in the cage, to the twisted delight of Hengist’s ruffians. Merlin was incredibly maddened by the whole thing. Ever since that blow to the head, her magic has been irritatingly out of reach, it was just below the surface, but it would not do as she asked so apparently destiny had decreed death by wilddeoren.

Or maybe not, because there were two very familiar faces moving through the crowd. Blue met blue and she was awash with security, even her traitorous magic made itself available for the first time in days and if she could, she’d glare at it for betraying her like this.

Arthur vaulted over the wall of barbarians and thumped feet-first into the cage, splayed defensively between them and the hairless beast. “Arthur!” A deft swipe of his blade liberated their hands and he tossed a sword to Lance, arm darting out to grab Merlin and push her behind the shield of his body. “What are you doing here, Lancelot?”

“I came to save Merlin, what about you?”

“Likewise.” Arthur smothered the flare of jealousy in favour of keeping the man-eating creature at bay as they slowly inched toward the tunnel. A glint of light attracted Merlin’s attention and she followed it, eyes meeting the readied bolt of Hengist’s crossbow. “Ic bebíede fealle.”

It was whispered, Arthur was mere inches away after all, but her magic obeyed her command and the iron chandelier snapped from its holding, deadly in its descent. Hengist was thwarted and forced to abandon his shot lest he be crushed alive. They were close enough to the tunnel and Merlin filtered through the grubby faces to find the other familiar one. “Gwen!” She caught her eyes, which had been locked onto Lancelot’s back and beckoned her in. She slipped through the bars in a stunning show of agility and they were embracing like long lost friends despite only being separated for a few days.

Arthur reached back to push Merlin into the tunnel and she dragged Gwen with her, sheltered behind their men. Being in the tunnel wouldn’t guarantee their lives unless they found a way of sealing it off and there was no other option but magic. “Learh fearrancai.”

“I see your still up to your old tricks, Merlin.” She smiled at Lance meaningfully and he quirked back. But Merlin couldn’t quell the fear that Arthur might have heard. It didn’t seem so for he gripped her hand with a desperation she had never seen and kicked their little party into motion, the gruesome sound of Hengist’s screams followed them out of the stronghold.

Their exit was barred, but the crisp night air was a welcome change from the stale climate of that place. Arthur fiddled with the chains keeping them prisoner, sword clanging loudly against the rusted links. He looked back serval times, needing the reassurance that Merlin was safe and alive, and in doing so he saw the urgent clutch of hands that joined Guinevere and Lancelot. It would seem he had misinterpreted Lancelot’s intentions back in Camelot all those months ago.

The chains gave up under Arthur’s tenacious ministrations and they fled into the trees. When they stopped to make camp for the night, Arthur noticed several things that had earlier been hidden behind a curtain of hair. First, was the dark bruising that collared Merlin’s neck, stark and ugly against her fair skin. Then, the thin pink lines that scraped across her left cheek. 

Clustered by the fire, Arthur’s gloved hand hovered out to her, leather-clad fingers brushing against the mottled collection of purples and greens, the spattering of scarlet. Merlin shied away from the touch with a pained flicker of lashes, a lone tear venturing done her scratched cheek, salt sure to sting. Arthur drew back his hand and instead, offered occupancy in the crook of his arm. Merlin unfurled from her defensive huddle and crawled into his company, head coming to rest against Arthur’s shoulder as his arm wrapped her up protectively.

“Who did that to you?” It was asked quietly, pitched to the top her head after he dropped a kiss there. His blood was hot with anger, pulsing through him and begging for action. Merlin had been his to protect, something he failed to do and the physical proof of that was too much to bare.

“’S not important, he’s dead.” Her voice was quieter still and he wondered if it had anything to do with the bruising. The steady rise and fall of her under his arm and soft puffs of breath were enough to temper his waspish mood. Merlin shifted closer still, burrowing into his side. “You shouldn’t have brought Gwen.”

Arthur looked out across the fire, saw the loving hold Lancelot had on Guinevere and felt the atmosphere of attraction around them. “Didn’t get a choice, she saddled a horse and followed me, even ‘shushed’ me at one point when I told her to go back. There’s a scary determination in that woman.” Merlin snorted, the familiar rumble of Arthur’s voice and his steady warmth already lulling her to sleep.

At daybreak, Merlin squinted up at the pale sky through the bleak tree line before rotating back into Arthur, who was using his hand as a pillow. It was early yet but dawn’s advent would soon rouse the others. But until then, Merlin could lace her fingers through Arthur’s and smile at the way his fingers curled around hers in his sleep, nestle her head onto his chest and enjoy the rhythmic beat of his heart.

\- -

Later, when Arthur was staring out over the courtyard from one of the many balconies, he took a moment to just breathe. His father ripped him to shreds over his recklessness and warned him against getting involved with members of the court. Arthur was outraged but he conceded when Uther questioned his commitment to his duties to the kingdom and threats were made towards Merlin. He was drowning in his barely contained pique, simmering below the skin and the last person he wanted to be probed by was Morgana, who had the uncanny ability of finding him no matter where he hid and a sixth sense for his foul moods. “I’ve never seen you like that about anyone.”

Arthur kept his gaze forward and feigned ignorance. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Merlin,” Morgana glanced sideways at him, “You really care about her, don’t you?”

“What I care about is not talking. I came up here for a moment of peace and quiet, not to be accosted a harpy.”

“Why can’t you just admit your feelings?” Arthur sighed, shoulders dropping defeatedly in the face of Morgana’s persistence. After being hounded by his father, this was the absolute last conversation he wanted to get into but Morgana’s stubbornness is rivalled only by the king himself. “It’s so obvious a blind man could see it, is it really that hard to admit you like her?”

Arthur kept his silence, maybe ignoring her would make her go away. It didn’t work, if anything she seemed to take his hush as answer in itself so she prompted him again, “Just say it.”

It was the final straw for him and all the emotions he had kept at a careful simmer reached boiling point, “I can’t!” 

Everything was in his voice, the helplessness, the frustration, the longing and Morgana blinked, eyes growing sympathetic and offering him pity he didn’t want. “How can I admit that I think about her all the time? Or that I care about her more than anyone? How can I admit that I don’t know what I’ll do if any harm comes to her?”

“Why can’t you?” Morgana’s voice was gentle, softer than he had heard it in a long time.

“Because nothing can ever happen between us. To admit my feelings knowing that…it hurts too much.” Arthur’s arms were crossed defensively, eyes averted so that Morgana wouldn’t be able to see his torment because he was too exhausted to maintain his mask of indifference.

“Who’s to say nothing can happen?” There was a challenge in her voice but she could never understand the restrictions that suffocated him.

“Come, Morgana, you and I both know father will not allow me to marry a woman that isn’t of royal blood.”

“You want to marry Merlin?”

“No!” He backtracked, “No, I don’t know.” 

“When you’re king, you can change that.” Arthur closed his eyes against her words, it would be years until he took the throne.

“I can’t expect Merlin to wait for me.”

“If she feels as you do, she’ll wait as long as it takes.” Morgana used that slice of insight to draw the conversation to a close and with a brief touch of support, she turned to leave. Arthur felt lighter for it but he still called out, “Oh, and Morgana, if you dare tell anyone about this, I promise that I will make your life a living hell.”

Morgana paused with her hand on the archway, quirking an eyebrow at him with a goading smile, “What, more than you already do?” Arthur huffed out a laugh and she retreated into the castle, the clack of her shoes tracing a path down the hall. 

\- -

In the absence of threat, Merlin took the time to commission her own armour. Gwen’s father was more talented than the royal blacksmith and had a penchant for bespoke orders. So, she had sat with him for a day and sketched out ideas until they had cultivated a blueprint. 

She didn’t want a complete suit, hadn’t been enticed by the notion of having her whole body covered. It stole of week of Tom’s time but when she was saw the armour it had been worth every hour. An intricately designed chest plate was connected to a pauldron and vambrace of equal beauty by a crested besagew. It was only partial plate armour but it was all she wanted and she paid Tom double what he asked as a gesture of goodwill. A slim fit coat of chainmail completed the order. With that checked off, Merlin could focus on the trouble that had brewed. 

Arthur had been a downright pain in the ass ever since they returned from Hengist’s and she couldn’t figure out why. It was as though her had completely shut himself off; whenever she got close he moved back and whenever she tried for their usual banter, Arthur discouraged it. She’d had half a mind to let him keep his troll step-mother, but after seeing the rejection painted across his face by disinheritance, Lady Catrina had to go. 

_  
“Maybe my fathers right…I will be king one day and I cannot be a friend to the people as well as their ruler. Maybe I don’t have what it takes to be the king Camelot needs.”_

_“That’s not true and you’ll prove it.” She reached for his hand and for the first time in a week, he didn’t pull away. “Arthur, Camelot could not ask for a better prince nor a better king to be, you’ve a kind heart, don’t ever change. Not for anyone.”  
_

Their conversation seemed to soften Arthur around the edges and he lost that unbecoming stiffness that he had adopted after their deliverance from Hengist. He still kept physical difference from her whenever they crossed paths, but he could not mask his longing no matter how hard he might try. 

\- - 

Merlin had been in Camelot for over a year now and she had grown careless. 

She had been out in the Darkling Woods with Ronin, an overdue reprieve from the expectations that burden her in the castle. With no one around to tell the tale, she played with the smoke of her campfire. But when you play with fire, you get burned.

Her folly was witnessed and the consequence dire. The Witchfinder’s coming was announced at court; Aredian arrived in the dark of night with a cold iron cage at his back and trinkets of torture on his belt. Merlin watched from Morgana’s chambers as he rode into the courtyard. “What’s that cage for?” Gwen had asked.

“It hardly bares thinking about.” Morgana was terrified of the man, no doubt plagued by the fear of discovery. Merlin was not afraid of this dark man. Were she to be implicated, her persuasive tongue would sway the king and with magic at her bidding, Aredian would not ail this kingdom for long. She had already begun to notice the dishonestly in his calculating eyes and he had only been here a day when she received him summons. “Lady Merlin, how nice it is to meet you.”

“Indeed.” She chose not to sit when Aredian splayed his hand toward the empty chair, opting to stand.

“You are aware that sorcery has been practiced in the vicinity of Camelot?”

“That’s what they’re saying.” A forced smile.

“No, it cannot be denied. There was a witness,” He dipped his quill into the half-skull ink pot. “This woman has also named you as a witness.”

“Oh?” Aredian looked up at her tone; daring and intrigued. He blew dust from his parchment.

“I’ve already spoke to her, she was quite clear on the matter.”

“I’m sure she was, but I can assure you that I’ve no knowledge of any horse conjured from smoke.”

“Hm, how can that be, I wonder? How can one person see something an the other not?”

“A mystery indeed, but you seem like a clever man, I’ve no doubt you’ll get to the bottom of it.” She offered him a thin smile and let her eyes convey both her challenge and her mistrust.

“Yes, well, I’m at a loss to explain it…unless it was you that performed the magic?”

“It wasn’t” Merlin was careful to school her features detachment, vigilant about the nonchalant cadence of her voice.

“Can you prove that it wasn’t?” She shrugged and said nothing further and Aredian’s eyes narrowed speculatively. Merlin would indulge him no longer and took her leave. Hours passed her by as she remained in the safe confines of her room. Warded as it was, she was free to use magic as she desired. Merlin had just set the hearth alight with raucous flames when a knock bounced off her door and Gaius poked his concerned head in.

Aredian had called an audience with the king, a formation of witnesses accumulated by his hand stood nervously before Uther. One by one they recounted the acts of sorcery they had beheld, all of them were teary and terrified as they spoke of faces in the well and talking creatures. “The magic user laughs in your face! Even now magic flourishes on the streets of Camelot.” Aredian prefaced.

“I scarcely believe it.”

“Yet it is the truth, my lord.” Aredian circled around his eyewitnesses, eyes moving from Uther to Arthur and back again as he continued, “Fortunately, I have utilised every facet of my craft to bring this matter to a swift resolution.”

Uther stood from his throne, “The sorcerer? You have a suspect?”

“I do, my lord, and I regret to stay they stand among us in this very room.” Merlin tensed, but her intake of breath was swallowed up by the shocked gasps of the council. Morgana looked about ready to pass out from fear and Arthur’s eyes found Merlin’s. “My methods are infallible, my findings incontestable! The facts point to one person and one person alone…the girl, Merlin!”

A herd of eyes swivelled to her and but Merlin only had eyes for Arthur, who was overcome with a fear of his own. But there was no anger there, no sense of betrayal, Arthur knew there was no truth to Aredian’s claims and his fear was for Merlin’s life. “I’m sure a thorough search of the girl’s chambers will deliver us all we need.”

Merlin thought about the loose floorboard beneath her bed that harboured her grimoire and of the cupboard that housed the Sidhe staff, both of which had been enchanted to remain sealed to any hand that was not her own, “I’ve nothing to hide, my lord.”

“Very well, guards, restrain her.” Hands gripped punishingly at her biceps, digging in with unnecessary force and she frowned at them. Arthur stomped forward with an annoyed ‘Oi’ and snatched her away from the guards, hand firm but lenient in its hold. 

Arthur could feel the weight of Uther’s stare on his back so he didn’t turn around. Aredian returned to the awaiting council with a bracelet clasped triumphantly is his hand. “An amulet of enchantment.”

“I’ve never seen that before in my life!” Which was true, because she hadn’t. Couldn’t even feel any magic rolling off of it and with that realisation came the deepening or her suspicions toward this…Witchfinder. 

Well, technically, he was right and she was in fact, a witch. But his miraculous witnesses and now this? The stench of dishonestly was suffocating. “You’re a liar!” 

At Uther’s bidding, four guards surged forward to snatch her out of Arthur’s hold and force her down. Arthur, bless him, did yell for them to show some respect in their handling but with Uther present, his order was forfeit. Knees jarring against the stone, the skirts of her dress doing nothing to cushion the landing, Merlin sneered up at the victory-smug Aredian. “If it would rid your mind of doubt, my lord, there’s a sure way to establish her guilt. My…treatment has proved fruitful in the past, has it not?”

Merlin could tell Uther was hesitant to condemn a noble but his hatred of magic far outweighed politics. “Very well.” The minor swing of his hand roused the guards and Merlin was yanked to her feet and hauled out of the room. Morgana shouted in outrage and pelted Uther with a relentless hate speech and before the doors were sealed behind her, she thought she heard Arthur speak against the king as well. 

Forced into the back corner of the dungeons, Merlin didn’t resist her restraint, refused to give Aredian the reaction he desired; her guilty panic. There was no straw in this cell nor was there any light and the silent guards clapped her wrists in manacles, thankfully not cold iron because that would surely incriminate her. Despite that, she already knew the rough metal would rub her raw. With the guards gone, Aredian imposed on her space with an ugly mix of disgust and satisfaction embedded into his rumpled face.

So began her torture. His nasty voice was all she could hear; the allegations against her were repeated over and over as Aredian tried to coerce a confession of guilt from her but she wouldn’t yield. Frustrated with the unrelenting battle of wills, Aredian resorted to more primal methods of torment. By now the delicate skin of her wrists had grown tacky with blood and the sharp sting that accompanied the raw wounds was aggravated with every movement. 

Merlin had no way of knowing how much time had passed since she had been chained to the wall. Aredian had denied her food and water and her head ached behind the haze of dehydration; eyesight blurry around the edges. There was a tender swell in her bottom lip, only noticeable if she probed at it with her tongue. 

If her fingers decided to venture over that lip, they would fell the jagged build up of dried blood that sealed a cut; the aftermath of a sharp backhand. If the uncomfortable throb around her eye socket was anything to go by, Merlin must bare a pretty bruise around her eye.

Aredian had left some time ago and when hurried footsteps echoed toward her she prepared herself for another round. Feminine hands wrapped around the bars and Merlin squinted in the low candlelight and gasped at who she saw. “Gwen!”

It must have been a while since she last spoke because her throat protested at the action and her voice was rough with disuse. Merlin rose from the ground with a soft grunt, arm pressed against the dank wall for support. She thought she heard Gwen make a pitiful noise but it was hard to tell over the jarring rattle of chain links. “Oh, Merlin…”

She leant heavily on the bars keeping her hostage, exhaustion getting the better of her and at this point Merlin would do just about anything for a drink. Anything expect confess. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t have long, how are you holding up?” Merlin tried to smile but the movement pulled at her lacerated lip and she winced, a warm line of fresh blood already racing down her chin. Gwen’s eyes found her wrists with a horrified gasp.

“Certainly seen better days. Aredian is a fraud, he’ll stop at nothing for my confession. I’ve no doubt he sent countless innocents to their death during the purge, there is nothing honest about his work.”

“You don’t deserve any of this,” Gwen gave her a sad look before discretely lifting her hand, in it, a small dropper bottle. “We think we’ve found a way to prove your innocence. Aredian forced a man to sell belladonna eyedrops to his witnesses and the stall owner agreed to testify against him.”

“Uther won’t give me a trial…” Merlin’s mind kicked into gear and it didn’t take long for her to sketch out a plan. “Give me the eyedrops, tomorrow morning I need you to make sure that man is in court.”

“But-“

“Trust me, Gwen.” Gwen checked her surrounds before her fingers slipped through the bars and deposited the bottle into Merlin’s waiting hand. A distant bang and their time was up, Gwen looked like she wanted to say more but there was no time. Merlin retreated back to the dark corner and slid down the grimy stone wall, awaiting her jailer’s return.

Long after her joints had stiffened from their disuse, the obnoxiously slow gait of Aredian heralded his return. He came to a dramatic stop outside the cell, index finger tapping over his clasped hands.”Are you prepared to confess?”

“I’d rather die first.”

“Good, and die you shall. But not alone, I’m pleased to say you shall have company.” His voice was gritty and Merlin scowled at the sick glee of it. “The Lady Morgana is to join you in the flames.”

Merlin scoffed, “Uther would never allow it.”

“Perhaps if he learned of her prophetic abilities, hm?” She glared daggers.

“Very well, Aredian, I will confess,” Merlin said as a smirk pulled up the uninjured corner of her lip. “To more than you know.”

Merlin was escorted to the throne room under heavy guard, Aredian marching her along by the chain that bound her wrists and fresh blood beaded beneath the shackles. Merlin had been granted a small drink, but it was only so that she would ‘clearly confess’ to the king. After painful jostling and a wealth of concerned glances from the servants they passed, Aredian pushed open the heavy wood doors and tossed her down before the king.

Her eyes had adjusted to the light and despite her blurry vision, she’d have to be blind to miss the look of dismay on Arthur’s face, clear blue eyes aghast at the state of her. Morgana looked ready to kill someone, probably Aredian, who had a rough grip on her shoulder, shaking her belligerently as he said, “Confess!”

Merlin surveyed the room quietly until they found Gwen, who nodded almost imperceptibly toward the shaggy man at her side and the gaggle of witnesses she had roped together. It was all the confirmation she needed to speak, “I confess, sire…to the crime of fraudulence.” 

The council stirred, restless muttering permeating the air but Merlin’s piercing gaze didn’t waver from the king, who appeared skeptical. Merlin jerked her shoulder free of Aredian’s hold and slowly rose. The cold stone seeped through the skin of her bare feet and though she looked small amongst the men, her posture was rigid and her voice strong, “May I speak freely, my lord?” 

Uther nodded after a moments hesitation. “The crime is not mine, but the Witchfinder’s,”

“Ridiculous! The witch lies to escape death.”

“Let her speak.” Arthur demanded, voice firm and warranting no argument. 

“I have been wrongly accused. The Witchfinder planted evidence in my chambers, he cares not for guilt or for innocence, only that he gets paid.”

Uther rose from his throne, “Have you any proof of this?”

“Sire, the witnesses saw nothing but hallucinations,” Arthur watched her as she spoke, deeply unhappy to see the cut on her lip and the flourish of bruising down the side of her face. He felt responsible for her suffering. “Induced by the belladonna in these eyedrops, sold to the witnesses by a vendor.”

Merlin presented the small bottle and relished in the way Aredian started to shift with unease. She could feel his anger rolling off of him in waves, the twitch of his eye a confession in itself. Uther examined the bottle, rolling it between his fingers contemplatively before addressing the witnesses. “You bought this belladonna from this man?”

The woman nodded nervously and Uther’s gaze shifted, hawk-like, over to the market vendor. “And where did you get it from?” The man looked around nervously and wrung his hands, hesitant under Aredian’s threatening stare. “Don’t be afraid. No harm will come to you here.”

“The Witchfinder, he gave them to me.” More muttering from the room’s occupants and Merlin took the time to quirk a challenging brow at Aredian, who looked like he wanted to throttle her. “He didn’t tell me what it was for, only that if I didn’t sell it he’d have me burned at the stake.”

“You see, sire? I was framed by your Witchfinder and subject to great torment by his hand. Aredian was determined to weasel a confession out of me despite knowing that I was innocent, I believe my injuries are proof enough of his misconduct.”

Arthur had to admire her courage, for a woman to speak out against a man of Aredian’s standing was not a matter to be undertaken lightly. Despite her dishevelled hair and dirt smeared dress, Arthur thought she looked beautiful. The fierce glint in her eye and the determined jut of her chin made her look commanding regardless of the assault to her face. Her composure was…he didn’t want to say regal, but yes, that’s what it was, like a queen addressing her court.

“How do you respond to these accusations?” Uther asks, his suspicions redirected.

“They are absurd. The girl has clearly concocted these lies in the hope of saving her skin.” 

“Oh? Then you won’t mind if we search your chambers?”

Arthur stepped down from the throne platform and came to a pause in front of Merlin, who was even smaller without her shoes. “Father, let’s settle this once and for all. If there is some truth to what she says it cannot be overlooked.” Everyone’s gaze turned expectantly to Aredian, whose arms were crossed defensively.

“I have nothing to hide.” Permission granted, a small selection of the council convened in Aredian’s chambers. Merlin stood, flanked by Arthur and Morgana as the guards rifled through through his belongings. 

“You’re wasting your time.” He spat, agitated by the search and with a discrete flash of her eyes, he was damned. Merlin nudged Arthur and flicked her head toward the cupboard she had just worked her magic on.

Arthur pointed directly at it, “That cupboard over there.” One of the guards marched over and an unsuspecting Aredian did nothing to stop him. The little doors were wrenched open and the guard staggered back against the waterfall of bracelets that poured out, all identical to the Aredian claimed to have found in her chambers. Once the bracelets cleared out, rows upon rows of eyedrops became visible.

Aredian stumble over his words in a frantic attempt to save himself. “Wh-these things do not belong to me!” He moved away from them nervously, putting the table between him and Uther. “This is a trick!”

Merlin blinked to disguise the gold in her eyes and Aredian started to cough, great hacking breaths and he lurched for Merlin, “The girl plots against me!” Arthur moved in front of her and drew his sword, holding it aloft to keep Aredian away. He coughed and coughed until he choked up a toad, which plopped wetly onto the floor with a disgruntled croak.

“Sorcerer!” Uther drew his sword and the guards followed suit. Aredian stumbled back to escape their blades but his boot caught on one of the bracelets and he teetered over to the window. Knocked off balance, the window shattered under his weight. Merlin strode to the broken window, hands braced on the frame as she peered over to watch him fall. His wide, terrified eyes locked onto her cool ones and she spoke into his mind.

 _”You should not have threatened my friend.”_ The last thing the Witchfinder ever saw, was the vibrant golden glow of the eyes that killed him.

\- -

Arthur’s fingers traced down her temple and across her cheekbone, an unhappy furrow to his brow. A finger tentatively came to swipe over her bottom lip only to stop just short of touching the cut. Most of the scabbing had fallen away but it left behind a thin white line, only noticeable if you knew it was there.

The crescent of bruising around her eye had reduced to a mottled yellow with pale green accents, though it looked darker in the pallid moonlight. Arthur had felt incredibly guilty during the week following Aredian’s unfortunate death. Merlin was the least deserving of the harsh treatment that befell her and Arthur couldn’t help but blame himself.

His father could order him to keep his distance until he was blue in the face, but there was something about Merlin that drew him in. Her beauty was second to none and Arthur was powerless to resist her, especially when she fit so perfectly into his life. 

Physically, her petite body slotted against him like she was made to be at his side. But it was so much more than that. Merlin was his best council and Arthur knew he could always trust her to advise him honesty. She had a wisdom beyond her years and her faith in him gave him strength when he couldn’t find his own. Her allurement were an added bonus.

Arthur stared down into the pool of her eyes, clear and enchanting and so blue and he let his hand fall away from her face in favour of drawing her into his chest. Dropping his head to dapple the crown of her head with kisses, he took the time to breath her in, overwhelmed by the comfort her scent gifted him.

Merlin pulled out of the embrace, a delicate hand circling the back of his neck briefly before her fingers slid through the hair that curled around his nape. Using the hold as leverage, she pulled him down into a kiss, the first one since the jousting tournament and Arthur melted into it.

\- -

The dawning of Albion began on a nondescript day; the fringes of spring brought back the warmth that winter had stolen and the land flourished under the sun’s encouragement. Perhaps, the prosperity of the new season was an omen for the advent of a new era. 

Merlin ambled through the sun marbled hallways, raptured with spring’s renewal. Her magic, which had always grow tetchy with the cold season, was swirling gleefully through her veins; awaiting the spring equinox. She beamed at anyone she passed and the newer servants probably thought she a bit deranged but the veterans could inform them otherwise.

She could scarcely believe it had been over a year already. But Camelot was heading for change and the genesis of Albion’s golden age came with the arrival of Morgause, a severe woman that set Merlin on edge, especially with Nimueh’s words bouncing around her head. She challenged Arthur to a fight and he was honour bound to accept, much to Uther’s irritation and for once, Merlin shared the king’s mind.

Clouds shadowed the moon and the night seemed darker for Morgause’s presence as Merlin stalked through the castle. Determined feet brought her to a set of doors that cowered under her stare and meekly swung open. “I wondered how long it would take for you to seek me.”

“Why have you come?”

“Time is slow and I’ve grown tired of waiting.”

“Why challenge Arthur? You’ve no quarrel with him.”

“Because it is the only way to insure he accepts the next challenge I set. With a sword at his heart he will have no choice but to give his word.”

“What are you planning?” Morgause smiled indulgently at her.

“You always were full of questions, even as a child.” Merlin’s eyes narrowed. “Nimueh and I could never respond quick enough to your outpour of enquiries. I’ve no answer for you know, Emrys, you’ll wait as Arthur does.”

Arthur could have quite easily won the fight that followed if he hadn’t allowed Morgause to retrieve her weapon. But instead, it ended with Arthur held at sword point, as Morgause intended. She hadn’t bothered trying to convince Arthur not to go because when his honour was involved, come hell or high water, he would not break his word. Instead, she helped smuggle him out of the citadel and went along with him. She was his best protection anyway.

Arthur didn’t seem opposed to her tag along, he just eyed Ronin’s tack and Merlin’s riding attire and nodded to himself before swinging up onto Hengroen. The ride was spent in silence as night turned to day and at one point they reached a fork in the path. 

“Which way?” Merlin asks, but she gets no response. “…do you actually know where we’re going?

“Yes, _Merlin_ , it’s this way.” But Hengroen didn’t bid left like Arthur commanded and whinnied stubbornly. Ronin flicked his ear. “What is wrong with this horse?”

Hengroen paced merrily down the right path and Ronin followed. “I though you said it was left?”

“It’s not me! It’s the horse!” Merlin pursed her lips at his tone. “Morgause told me: when the time comes you will know your way.”

“So the horse knows where we’re going. Great.” Ronin snorted at her like he was amused by the whole exchange and she squinted at the back of his neck. The woods were alive with the essence of spring; the giddy nattering of crickets and the melody of birdsong. Lush flora fenced the beaten down pathway and Merlin breathed in a fresh air, peace cut short by the whiz of an arrow. It struck the tree beside her head, inches from fatality and Ronin reared up angrily, tossing her from the saddle in the process.

Five of Odin’s men, maybe six, assailed them and Arthur blazed into action. Merlin lay on the ground nursing the dull throb at the back of her skull with her hand, frowning up at the fight before her. One of the larger men barrelled toward her in a battle cry, arching the hatchet above his head but before it could swing into her chest he fell to Arthur’s throwing knife.

He moved onto the next man but was too focused to notice Odin’s guard perched up in a tree, spear at the ready. A muttered spell set the spear alight and the men went toppling to his death. Last one dispatched, Arthur came panting over and offered her his hand, “Are you alright?” Satisfied with her affirmation, Arthur’s hand put a gentle pressure on Merlin’s lower back to urge her toward the horses. “Maybe we should go back?”

Arthur didn’t look up from his saddlebag fiddling, “You can go back if you want to, I won’t stop you.” But the tone of his voice said he’d really rather her stay.

“You don’t know anything about Morgause, you don’t know what she’s going to ask of you, Arthur! We don’t even know where we’re going, we’re following a horse!”

“Morgause said she knew my mother.” Arthur revealed, eyes vulnerable and it made him look painfully young. “I never knew her, she died before I opened my eyes.”

And there was something Gaius had failed to mention. It explained why there was never an utterance of the late queen and it explained Arthur’s lack of emotional skills. With only Uther to guide him it was no wonder he had no idea how to let people in, why he thought he had to do everything alone and drown his softer feelings, cage his gentle heart.

“I barely know anything about her,” He mumbled, and there was sorrow there, it made her heart ache for she could not imagine being without her mother. “I would give anything for even the vaguest memory.”

“Can’t you ask your father?” She asked softly, a hand reaching out to comfort Arthur in any small way she could. Arthur shook his head like a man that had been punished for asking.

“He refuses to talk of her, must be too painful for him, I suppose.” Arthur didn’t acknowledge the hand over his shoulder but nor did he shrug it off. Merlin caught his eye and her heart lurched painfully at the childlike longing buried in their depths. “Sometimes it’s as if she never even existed.”

“I still have a sense of her, almost as though she’s part of me,” Arthur’s eyes got a faraway look, 21 years of sadness and guilt and the unknown darkening the normal brilliance of his blue eyes. 

“She is,” Merlin implored, “Arthur, she will always be a part of you. I know it to be so.” Her hand snaked from his shoulder and came to a firm rest over his heart, pressing into the armour that shielded it from harm. The gesture made for him to understand that she could see the goodness of his heart beneath his tough exterior. Arthur’s lips curved upward softly and he swooped down to capture her mouth in a chaste kiss before he helped her back onto Ronin and they continued on their way

Hengroen came to a pause on the shores of a lake, water sloshing lazily against the mossy banks. A dead end, because they followed a bloody horse and Merlin was starting to think this was a lost cause. Then there was water around her ankles because the horses didn’t have any qualms about wading through the cold water nor did they seem to care about their riders comfort. 

They were showered by the hollow waterfall and Merlin blinked rapidly to dispel the stale liquid from her eyes, adjusting to the darkness of the rocky chamber. The horses high stepped through the short yet oddly dense thatch of vegetation until hooves met grass and Arthur frowned up at the great stone structure. “Where are we?” She asked.

“I don’t know, but there can be doubt that Morgause is a sorcerer, we can be certain of that now,” The horses continued to pace onward. Arthur huffed out a knowing laugh, “That must have been how she defeated me, she was using magic.”

“Mm, it didn’t look like she was.”

“And what would you know about magic, Merlin?”

Something ugly curled around her chest and her gut clenched uncomfortably, “Nothing.”

Their stallions came to a halt beside a nondescript archway, partially crumbled steps bidding them entry. She could sense Morgause here, the familiar energy that vibrated in the air in that oppressive way only Morgause could manage. Inside, the stone walls were choked with ivy and an executioners block stood with an axe. Arthur picked it up and Merlin’s magic stirred at the unpleasant crackle of power in the air, amped by Morgause’s proximity, “You kept your promise.”

She trailed down a wracked stair case in a dress that dredged up some of Merlin’s childhood memories. Morgause stalked toward Arthur like a wolf, eyes dangerously sharp and her magic pressed against Merlin’s skin, invasive.

“What is the nature of the challenge you wish to set me?”

“Place your head on the block,” She lifted the axe and held it aloft, eyeing Arthur with unveiled intrigue. “You gave me your word that you would do anything I asked.”

Her charcoal lined eyes narrowed briefly and Merlin recognised the challenging tick that had always been present whenever Morgause asked her to perform a particularly tricky spell, her training sessions were always more brutal than Nimueh’s. Arthur went to his knees with his jaw clenched, honour bound to comply.

The axe was raised and magic flared in her fingertips, begging to be unleashed but Merlin kept it at bay with an iron grip. Morgause pushed it into an arch that didn’t so much as touch a hair on Arthur’s head and the axe was retired to the floor. “You have shown that you are truly a man of your word, Arthur Pendragon, and for that, I will grant you one wish.”

Merlin’s eyes pinched together suspiciously, there had to be some kind of hidden motive she couldn’t see. But Morgause looked unnervingly honest in her patience for Arthur’s decision. “You said you knew my mother, tell me all you know about her.”

Morgause’s head dropped to one side but her index finger didn’t jerk like it did when she was preparing her magic for an assault, so Merlin let her own magic fizzle out, calling it back to her core. “Perhaps you would like to see her?”

“I want that more than anything.”

“As you wish.” She vanished into the castle and Arthur trailed after her with childlike anticipation while Merlin’s feet moved with caution through the dank maze of corridors. Morgause led them into an slim, open-roofed hallway that was congested with candles. Arthur looked so boyishly excited and his open face betrayed the depth of his need. “Uther won’t be pleased to learn of your collaboration with a witch.” She whispered as they watched Morgause light the candles.

“What if my father’s attitude towards magic is wrong?” Merlin’s world ground to a halt and the breath seizing in her lungs made her dizzy. Surely she had misheard; those rushed words of hope couldn’t have come from his lips. 

“You really think that?” She tried so hard to control the tremor in her voice and when Arthur turned to face her his eyes were sharp and curious and the force of it all made her feel faint. Merlin had thought it would take an age to show Arthur that magic can be good but within a year he was already divorcing himself from Uther’s ideals, thinking independently and passing his own judgement.

“Perhaps it’s not as simple as he would have us believe,” Merlin’s throat constricted with the effort of holding in tears. Her magic was restless under her prince’s piercing gaze, pulsating in response to his words. “Morgause is a sorcerer and she has caused us no harm, surely, not everyone who practices magic can be evil.”

The admission clawed at the back of her throat, _I have magic and I’m not evil_ , but she swallowed it down thickly. Suppressing the chaotic swirl of emotions sent a tremble to her hands and she almost couldn’t bare the urgency his those blue eyes of his. His eyes sought confirmation and Merlin realised it was her he sought the truth from; trusted her not to lie to him.

So Merlin nodded numbly and it was jerky and desperate but it worked and Arthur’s eyes become resolute. His trust in her was so absolute that all it took was the toss of her head to overturn 21 years of anti-magic beliefs, to undo all of Uther’s teachings. Arthur held her opinion in higher regard than his fathers and the weight of that was monumental. Albion hummed at the shift of loyalty.

“It is time.” Morgause’s gentle cadence let Merlin return from her own mind and Arthur stepped to meet her waiting hands. “Close your eyes.” He did.

"Arise mid min miclan mihte þín suna to helpe. Hider eft funde on þisse ne middangeard þín suna wæs.” Merlin recognised the necromancy principles behind the spell and knew it would produce no illusions, Arthur would meet his mother’s spirit. The fabrics of time ceased to exist in that moment and Merlin gazed upon a goddess.

“Arthur?” Arthur sucked in a shaky breath, unable to believe the beauty before him. 

“Mother.”

“My son,” Ygraine rushed forward and Arthur’s shoulders rose and fell heavily. He went slack in his mother’s arms, shut his eyes against against the onslaught of emotions that crashed over him. His mother, hugging him. “When I last held you, you were a tiny baby.”

Arthur burrowed into her shoulder and breathed her in, she smelt of lavender and fresh linens. Ygraine was more beautiful than he could have ever imagined and his features made so much more sense now that he beheld her. The warmth of her voice was something only a mother could manage and he let the soothing sound wash over him.

“I remember your eyes, you were staring up at me. Those few seconds I held you were the most precious of my life.” Arthur nearly sobbed at the tears in her eyes. He had her mouth, her nose. A tender hand cupped his cheek and he leant into it.

“I’m so sorry.” The words were choked out.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“It was my birth that caused you to die.”

“No, you are not to blame,” Ygraine dragged him into another embrace, distraught by his guilt. “It is your father who should carry the guilt of what happened.”

Arthur stiffened in her arms, “What do you mean?”

“It is not important. What matters is that you lived.” 

“Why should my father carry the guilt?” He was frowning now.

“Your father…was desperate for an heir, without a son, the Pendragon dynasty would come to an end. But I could not conceive.” Ygraine looked ashamed at the fact and her face was so like Arthur’s that Merlin longed to see her smile again. It was clear to see where Arthur’s expressive face came from. 

“Then how was I born?” Ygraine was hesitant, “Tell me.”

“Your father betrayed me. He went to the sorceress Nimueh and ask for her help in conceiving a child. You were born…of magic.” Merlin’s shocked face sought Morgause and found her already looking back with regret. She had lied her, they both lied to her!

Arthur felt his world crumble to dust. Everything he knew, everything he had been taught, it was all a lie but he refused to believe it could be so. “That’s not true.”

“I’m sorry, Arthur. Your father has deceived you as he deceived me.” Arthur’s breathing grew erratic in his panic. “To create a life, a life must be taken your father knew that.”

“No.”

“He sacrificed my life so that the Pendragon dynasty could continue,” Arthur’s face was wrought with pain. “It makes you no less my son nor me any less proud of you. Now that I see you, I would have given my life willingly.”

Arthur took deep breaths as years of lies were unravelled by a woman who deserved so much more than his father’s greed. Ygraine had only known her son for mere minutes but already she recognised the torment in his eyes for it mirrored her own. “Do not let this knowledge change you.”

Time impeded the conversation, Arthur was distraught at his mother’s disappearance and he searched for her desperately but only found Merlin and Morgause, both full of pity. Morgause couldn’t bring her back, the doorway was closed to him forevermore and the witch left them to the candles. “Are you alright?”

Merlin didn’t dare to touch him, every line of his body was taut with anger, shoulders rigid and hands balled into white fists as his jaw worked. “Arthur?”

“Get the horses. We’re returning to Camelot.” Something dangerous deepened his voice and it was in his stride too. Wide and determined and hell bent on moving. The ride was swift and quiet, Arthur pushed his horse harder than he should’ve but there was fury pumping through his veins. 

Inside the citadel, his jaw was tight, even his dismount was angry and a white knuckled grip tore the sword from his saddle with intent. Merlin watched him go. 

“Merlin! I’m relieved to see you safe. Where’s Arthur?” Merlin gazed at Gaius impassively and moved into a more discrete alcove without uttering a word. Away from prying eyes and acute ears and with a stoney face, she asked: “Arthur was born of magic, wasn’t he?”

Gaius only bowed his head but that was confirmation enough. “Uther used magic.” 

“Merlin-“

“All those people he’s executed…he’s as guilty as they are. He sacrificed Arthur’s mother, he as good as murdered her!” The venom in her voice was potent. “The people should know the truth about what he’s done.”

“No, Merlin, the king-“

“He is no king of mine. He is coward.” She couldn’t comprehend the betrayal and the sheer anger that must be raging through Arthur because this wasn’t Merlin’s family and yet she was burning white hot with ill temper. “How could you not tell me?”

“I feared what Arthur would do if he ever found out.”

“Well,” She condescended, “He’s found out, now.” Merlin left Gaius there, unable to look at him under the weight of what she knew. She had to find Arthur. 

\- -

When he calmly strode through the doorway he saw Uther and the sight repulsed him. Holding a parchment and speaking lowly with Leon, he looked up at the sound of boots. “Arthur. Where have you been? I’ve had search parties out looking for you.”

He couldn’t speak. Fingers flexing around the pommel at his waist restlessly, it was all he could do to maintain some semblance of calm. His face was the perfect mask of indifference but Arthur was quite sure there was something dangerous in his eyes. He clenched his jaw and let out a long breath, trying to release some of the anger but it didn’t work. “Arthur.”

“I know…what you did to my mother.” Leon’s eyes widened briefly at the prince’s voice; sonorous and powerful and wondered how Uther didn’t cower at the sound of it. When the king dismissed him he was all too happy to vacate the room.

“What are you talking about?”

“You were so desperate for an heir, you were prepared to use magic.” Arthur’s nostrils flared in warning.

“Did Morgause tell you this? She’s lying.” Uther was so blasé and the blatant lie sent Arthur’s temper spiralling to it’s crescendo.

“My mother is dead because of you selfishness and arrogance. Her blood is on your hands.” Arthur’s breath had grown quick and heavy with ire and Uther had to audacity to look confused.

“No, that’s not true, but Morgause would have you believe that.” Another lie, right to his face and all at once Arthur realised how easily fabrications slipped from his mouth. How easy it was for him to deceive and misguide.

“This is what fuels you hatred for those who practice magic,” Disgust twisted his face, “Rather than blame yourself for what you did, you blame them.”

“You would believe a sorcerer’s lies over the word of your own father?” It was asked patronisingly and it was the final straw for Arthur. “I can only think that Morgause has enchanted you.”

“You have hunted her kind like animals! How many hundreds have you condemned to death to ease your guilt?!”

“Those who practice magic will stop at nothing to destroy us. I have only done what is necessary to protect this kingdom!” Uther’s voice grew louder to match Arthur’s, unwilling to be undermined by his son.

“You speak of honour and nobility! You’re nothing but a hypocrite, and a liar!” Arthur’s voice echoed around the room and it was brimming with hatred and anguish.

“I am your king and your father. You will show me some respect!”

Arthur let the rage ebb from his expression and let a false sense of serenity smooth out the anger on his face. Uther stared at him threateningly but Arthur would not be subdued so he moved forward and removed his gauntlet and threw it down. “Pick it up.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Arthur’s eyes were cold. “Arthur, I implore you - think about what you’re doing.”

“Pick it up.”

“I will not fight you.” Uther stepped back but Arthur followed him, imposing and unrelenting and Uther felt the unpleasant shift of power. It was subtle but it was felt and Uther didn’t like it one bit because there was an alpha in the room and it wasn’t him.

“If you chose not to defend yourself,” Arthur drew closer until he could see the unease in those grey eyes, let the threat hang in the air between them, “I will strike you down where you stand.” 

“You’re my son. You will not strike an unarmed man.”

“I no longer think of myself as your son.”

“Then strike me down.” Uther challenged cockily, too blinded by his kingship to see that their bond had fractured into something irreparable. Arthur’s cold indifference splintered under the pressure of his bitter wrath and his muscles moved instinctively to arch his sword into Uther but his attack was blocked.

“I don’t want you fight you.” Uther lowered his sword and backed away from his son but he was pursued swiftly. Arthur rotated his wrist, sword swiping with the signature threat and his eyes were cold as stone and locked onto his target. Arthur pounced with a torrent of strikes, brutal and efficient, they pushed Uther into a weak defence. “Arthur, stop this!”

The older man managed to get in a strike of his own, blade missing the tender skin of Arthur’s neck by a fraction but it only enraged Arthur further. He bent his knees, sword flat like a viper waiting to strike. Arthur was relentless and he far overpowered the king, younger, faster, and Uther was out of practice.

Arthur disarmed him and with no reprieve, his boot launched at Uther’s midsection, strong thighs forcing the king into his chair, breathless and afraid. Arthur’s’ left hand pushed down on his shoulder, where he knew Uther’s old battle wound sat and applied force, right hand poising the the tip of his sword against a thumping heart.

“Arthur, don’t.” The voice broke through the red haze, calming and strong. It was Merlin, no one else had ever been able to soothe his temper so, but anger for his mother still pulsed through him. “I know you don’t want to do this.”

“My mother is dead because of him!” He spat, sweat dampening the fringe that hung over his forehead. He did not lower his sword, enjoying the torment that had bloomed in Uther’s eyes under the mercy of his son.

“Killing your father will not bring her back.” She always was the voice of reason between the two of them. The wisdom to his impulse and the balm to his wounds. “You’ve lost one parent, don’t lose another.”

“Listen to her, Arthur.” Uther begged, but his voice grated against Arthur’s nerves and he pressed the sword into the already pinched leather.

“Arthur, please, put the sword down.” She sounded sad and her voice was softer than before, closer too.

“You heard what my mother said. After everything he has done, do you believe he deserves to live? He executes those who use magic and he has used it himself!” Arthur bored into the pained eyes below him, they had gathered tears. “You have caused so much suffering and pain. I will put an end to that.”

“I know you will, Arthur, and you’re right, he does not deserve your mercy.” The gentle agreement stayed Arthur’s hand, he let her chip away his anger and clear the thick fog that clouded his judgement. “But it will destroy you if you kill him.”

Arthur breathed heavily through his nose, forceful exhales punctuating his temper. There was a touch to his shoulder and he couldn’t feel its warmth through the armour but he knew it to be there. “If you are to rule as king with a clear conscience you must grant clemency. I cannot ask you to forgive, but I ask that you understand his grief and show leniency.”

The haze dissipated, anger smothered by the clarity Merlin offered and the weight of her hand slumped his shoulders. Arthur’s sword wavered through the sheen of tears that gathered his his eyes and he let it clatter away from its intention. Merlin was swift with her hands and they wound around his shaking shoulders and she follow him to the floor.

Arthur was overcome with emotion when he hit the floor and for once, he let himself cry. Merlin’s hand cradled the back of his neck and Arthur’s face burrowed into her shoulder even as his hands held onto her for dear life, engulfing her small frame with tight arms. He thought he heard boots leaving the room but he couldn’t think past the soothing swipe of Merlin’s thumb over the nape of his neck nor the reverent kisses she was pressing to his hair.

\- -

“I wanted to thank you in person for your actions yesterday.” Uther stood by her bed looking out of his depth, he had been waiting for her when she entered.

“I did it for Arthur, not you.” Merlin couldn’t keep the acidity from her voice and Uther’s eyes narrowed at it. He could see her defiance against him

“You’ll do well to remember your place, girl.”

“My place is at Arthur’s side.”

“I could have you hanged.” Uther moved forward imposingly.

“But you won’t, because you cannot afford to lose Arthur more than you already have.” Merlin stepped up to him, feeling daring, and held his eyes. Uther looked like he wanted to say more but he thinned his lips and strode from her chambers.

\- -

Arthur still deferred to Uther when they were in the public eye, it wouldn’t do for people to see the fractures in power so appearances when maintained. But when in private, Arthur made time to disagree with the king and his frustrations were often vented to Merlin, who would knead the tension out of his shoulders and offer advice.

Uther, unsettled by his loss of control over Arthur, arranged for peace talks between the five kingdoms. He often glowered at Merlin with thinly veiled hatred, angry at her or turning the tides against him and stealing his son’s esteem. 

The castle had been scrubbed and polished to within an inch of its life in preparation and Pendragon pennants had been hung in every corridor and every room, with a more understated dabbling of crests of the visiting kings. Merlin watched from her chambers as four of the most powerful men in the land arrived. 

King Alined seemed a slimy man, his false smiles only drawn for Uther and everyone else suffered his dirty looks. Olaf seemed amicable enough, Arthur said he was the most overprotective buffoon in all the lands and she couldn’t see why, the Lady Vivian was hardly a precious gem.

Before the opulent welcoming feast, Morgana ambushed Arthur while he was getting changed, strolling in unannounced while he yelled at Morris about moths. “Who might you be trying to impress?”

Arthur poked his head over the changing screen with his hair in total disarray and was unsurprised to see Morgana lounging against his bedpost, bloody woman had a penchant for intruding on his life. “Let me see, perhaps the five kings sitting in the banquet hall below.”

The answer was dripping with sarcasm and Morgana smiled slyly. “Oh? Not the king’s daughter then?” Arthur scoffed. “The Lady Vivian is very beautiful.”

“On the outside, sure.” He wandered out from behind the screen, shirt astray and halfway over his head. “Anyone trying to impress the Lady Vivian does so at extreme peril. Olaf would have their head in a vat of hot oil before they had a chance to say hello.” Morgana raised an eyebrow.

Arthur continued, “Besides, she’s not my type. She may be beautiful but she’s incredibly rude.” Morgana smirked. “You should have heard what she said to Merlin when they met!”

“And anyone insulting Merlin does so at extreme peril.” She parroted gleefully.

“What?”

Morgana smiled innocently and batted her eyelashes at him. “Nothing. I just know how you feel about her, that’s all.” Arthur glowered. “That is if your feelings haven’t changed, as I presume they haven’t.”

“I do have my own vat of hot oil, you know.” Morgana laughed.

“You’re blushing.” Arthur ducked behind the screen to escape her knowing eyes.

“No, I’m not.”

“What’s wrong with Merlin?” She probed.

“Nothing.”

“I think she’s very worthy of your love.” 

Arthur glared at her over the screen. “Indeed. Were it so.”

“Which it is.”

“Morgana?”

“Yes, Arthur?” She asked unrepentantly, mirth dancing in her all-knowing eyes.

“Get out.” Morgana swept out of his chambers in a fit of laughter,` her victorious cackles echoing down the corridor. 

\- -

The banquet was a delight but Merlin suspected Trickler of sorcery, butterflies did not just appear from thin air like that. Plus, he was King Alined’s jester and something about that man didn’t sit right with her. Trickler’s attention to Vivian was eyed suspiciously.

But the night ended without consequence so Merlin had no trouble sleeping, tired and satiated from the feast she drifted off as soon as her head hit the pillow. A stream of sunlight beamed through the curtains and she rolled away from the assault on her eyes. Meredith came bustling in after she was bid entry and harassed Merlin out of bed.

She had just dressed and sat down for breakfast when Morgana strode in, face obscured by an impressive assembly of flowers. “Gods, this is the fourth bunch you’ve pawned off to me, which lord is chasing you now?”

Meredith appeared with a vase and plonked it down in the middle of the dining table for Morgana. She slid the flowers into water and fiddle them into order, a sly curl to her lip as she said, “Actually, these are for you. From Arthur.”

“Arthur?”

“Mm.” Her smirk exploded into a wicked grin and looked across at Merlin, who had an adorable dusting of pink across her cheeks. Merlin blinked and snatched the note from Morgana’s dramatic gesture.

She cleared her throat and read aloud, “The barriers that keep us apart are nothing compared to the power of true love, Arthur…What?”

Morgana merely shrugged like she had no clue what was going on but Merlin just knew she was in on this. Before she could weed out any information, Morgana pranced out of her chambers. 

\- -

“Did you do it?”

“Yes, Arthur, I delivered them myself.” Arthur was waiting at the end of the corridor that housed Merlin’s chambers, all restless and fidgety, it was doing Morgana’s head in. Merlin appeared at the top of the staircase and rounded the corner, Lady Vivian in tow.

“Heaven has blessed me. She’s more beautiful than before, don’t you agree?” Morgana cackled, unbelievably amused by Arthur, whose wooing was bordering on pathetic.

“Yes, I’m surprised to hear you talk so openly.” Arthur’s gaze was fixated, only wavering when Merlin and Vivian vanished into the confines of her chambers.

“Nonsense. I want to tell the world. I want to shout it across the kingdom.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I understand your feelings and I’m pleased you’ve admitted to having them at all, but some people may object.” Arthur looked scandalised and crestfallen.

“Object? To what?”

“You’re the future king and she’s just a courtier.” Arthur’s finger whipped into her face, pointing between her eyes menacingly.

“Lady Vivian is of royal blood, a future queen. I’ll have your head if I hear such insolence again.” He stormed off, flicking his coat tail dramatically as he did so and Morgana’s eyes widened in horror as comprehension dawned on her.

\- -

Morgana wasted no time in rallying Gwen because that woman was a force to be reckoned with, and she enlisted Gaius’s expertise too because if anyone could figure out why in the hell Arthur was besotted with that wretched woman, it would be him. 

The obvious answer was a love spell, but who cast it? Alined’s kingdom trades in weapons and peace talks would ruin him, without trade his kingship would wither away so scuppering these talks had to be his hidden agenda. But a king wouldn’t be stupid enough to get involved personally and that’s where Trickler comes in.

The only problem is that there are 636 known loves spells and over 150 of them involved a lock of hair. And hadn’t that been a disturbing discovery, a stale clump of Vivian’s curls lodged under Arthur’s pillow. The task of weeding out the right spell was mammoth but at least they could take solace in the fact that Vivian did not return Arthur’s affections.

So, of course, in true Camelot fashion, Vivian woke up the next morning completely besotted with him. Morgana and Gwen had actually been having great fun detaining Vivian after she had broken into Arthur’s chambers sprouting absolute rubbish about destiny and love written in the stars while she smothered herself with Arthur’s bedsheets.

It was a close call, too close for comfort when Olaf arrived in a fit of rage and demanded a search of the chamber. Arthur had wandered in halfway through looking very confused with a half eaten apple in his hand. When the search proved barren, Olaf offered a sincere apology to Arthur and left, much to the relief of Morgana and Gwen, who both sighed.

“Why on earth are you two in my chambers?”

\- -

Morgana had thought that the guard outside Vivian’s rooms would prevent any further damage but apparently Arthur had scaled a wall. The pair of them were found locking lips by Olaf and Uther and Alined and it was a mess. Olaf threw down a bloody gauntlet and Arthur, the air-headed twit, said Vivian was worth dying for. 

She thought all hope was lost, nothing they had tried worked but then Gaius found her with the news that true loves kiss is the only force strong enough the break the enchantment. Morgana knew exactly whose lips she needed but the solution came too late.

Olaf would not rescind his challenge, he demanded recompense and neither she nor Uther could talk sense into Arthur. Word travelled fast through the castle and Merlin was treated to the news with breakfast. Hurt and confused, her appetite abandoned her so she went for a walk instead. 

Not that it helped in the slightest because she bumped into Arthur, whose smile was dopey with love, eyes faraway even as he addressed her, “Ah, Merlin, you will wish me luck?”

“Will I?” She snipped testily, shouldering past him. 

“Haven’t you heard?” He sounded proud and her heart ached to hear it.

“Oh yes, I’ve heard. Though sadly not from your lips. I wish you could’ve been more honest with me, Arthur.” She left, unable to bear his smile any longer and Arthur watched her go, unaware of the hurt he’d caused.

\- -

“King Olaf has demanded recompense and by the ancient laws of Camelot, the matter will be settled by a tourney in three stages. The weapons chosen are quarter staff, mace and sword. The fight will be by the knights rules and to the death.”

Merlin watched the fight from afar, glaring down from the nearby parapets as Arthur blew kisses at Vivian and danced around Olaf. Arthur’s movements were uncharacteristically sloppy but Merlin couldn’t bring herself to care, she’d quite like to whack Arthur with a quarterstaff. During the height of the second round, Gwen edged up to her. “I need your help.”

“Of course, what is it you need?”

“It’s Arthur.” 

Merlin turned away dismissively, “I do not think that Arthur needs me.”

“Merlin, I know. Anyone who spends two minutes with you can see how you feel about each other. I don’t have much time to explain but I need you to trust me.” Gwen implored, eyes pleading and Merlin struggled to resist her. Gwen’s puppy dog eyes were powerful.

“Arthur does love you.” She closed her eyes and scoffed, head shaking.

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Please, Merlin, trust your feelings. He’s enchanted.

“Yes, with Lady Vivian, I can see that.”

“No, no, I mean literally enchanted. Magic, potions, love juice, I don’t know but none of his feelings are genuine.”

“Magic? Gods, Gwen, why didn’t you start with that?” Merlin hitched up her skirts and followed Gwen down to the tourney grounds. She paused outside of the tent, hesitant, but Gwen urged her inside. Arthur was pulling down his shirt when she entered.

“Ah! Have you finally come to wish me luck? ‘Cause I really don’t think I need it anymore.”

“No, Arthur, I’ve not come to wish you luck.” She wanted to clobber him round the head. He truly was insufferable, but she couldn’t watch him die.

“Honestly, that is rather rude.” He muttered indignantly as Merlin stepped into his space. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders and he frowned down her as though her touch sent him into a daze.

“Then let me make amends.” Merlin rose to her tippy toes to catch his lips. Arthur stiffened and for one terrifying moment, Merlin thought she had been mistaken but then Arthur’s arms were winding around her waist and he was pushing down into the kiss. Merlin’s eyes remained closed even after she had pulled away, fluttering open to see lucidity return Arthur’s eyes before he grunted and doubled over, clutching at his side.

“What am I doing?”

“You’re in a fight, to the death…you’re losing.” Arthur blinked, unbelieving.

“But-“

“There is no time to explain, just…live for me, Arthur.” All he could do was nod mutely, dumbstruck by the revelation but he bent down to steal another kiss. Live he did, because there was nothing he would not do to return to Merlin. But Arthur would not kill Olaf, for that was no way to achieve peace.

Gaius was waiting for him in the tent and Merlin left him to the physician’s capable hands. She didn’t return to her chambers until dusk but when she did, it was to a single rose laid across the end of her bed. “I thought I’d better deliver it myself this time.”

Merlin jumped, spinning around to see Arthur push himself off from the wall he had been leaning against and coming into the light, “I’m sorry, for what I put you through. You must believe that my feelings for…Vivian, were not real.” 

Arthur spread his arms in invitation and Merlin fell into him. Swathed in his arms like this flooded her with contentment and she sighed into his shirt, enjoying the warmth at the small of her back while another hand threaded through her hair. “No, you’ve nothing to apologise for.”

Arthur used the hand at her neck to move her back, just enough so that he could look into her eyes and say, “I have never loved another.”

And he let every last drop of that love flood his expression. Merlin gazed up at him, lashes fluttering with a surprise blink even as her eyes grew warm and soft and Arthur saw his love reflected in those blue depths, saw the truth when she tenderly said, “Nor have I.”

The lands beneath the castle stirred to life, sending a shockwave of ancient magic that roused Albion from its patient slumber. Bestirred by the declaration of her children, invigorated by the seal of their bond. The ancient magic that bore them both thrummed restlessly, it would not be long until the king and queen summoned it back to Albion. 

\- -

Not long after the peace talks, dark magic struck at the heart of Camelot. A farmer’s report set Merlin on edge, and if the Fires of Idirsholas had indeed been lit once again, then she feared for Camelot. There was no doubt in her mind that this was Morgause’s doing, only she and Merlin had that kind of power.

News of Nimueh’s death had reached her a week ago, sent by raven from the Blood Guard and if Morgause had grown so bitter as to murder her own…Merlin was very worried. Such peril has not threatened Camelot for over 300 years. With that looming in the air, it came as no surprise that she fell into a fitful sleep that night, it probably didn’t help that Arthur had been sent to Idirsholas and Merlin wouldn’t be there to help him.

With daybreak came a bone deep tiredness unlike anything she had felt before. Her fatigue was unnatural and her magic was agitated beneath her skin. Merlin was dragging her feet through the halls and everyone she passed seemed just as tired as she. It had to be magic, she thought. But Merlin couldn’t seem to think much past that, a heavy fog had choked her mind and she close her eyes against the ache that started to spread. Her eyes locked shut and her body was dropping the floor weightlessly as reality escaped her.

Arthur returned hours later with sweat stiffened hair and the only survivor of the Idirsholas patrol. Panting, he jogged around the courtyard with mounting alarm. Every villager, every servant, every knight, splayed across the cobblestones like the dolls Morgana used to leave about the castle. The silence was eerie and all he could hear was the frantic thump of his heart. 

The horses were unaffected by whatever ailment fell the people, a hasty dash to the stables confirmed as much. Merlin’s horse stamped its hoof anxiously at the sight of him and Arthur’s mind went to his owner and he surged into a run.

Arthur took the stairs two at a time, pelting through the castle and dodging the slack bodies that littered the halls and stairwells. Right before the muscles in his legs could start complaining he caught sight of a familiar shape. Merlin was slumped across the stairs, head lolled against the wall with a harsh bend in her neck. Arthur slipped a hand behind her head and shifted her body into his.

“Merlin?” He shook her, softly at first, but rougher when she didn’t stir. If it wasn’t for the steady rise and fall of her chest he would think her dead. Arthur was about to give up when the corner of her eyebrows twitched together. He shook her again, “Merlin!”

An annoyed groan and a displeased scrunch of her nose, “G’way.” She turned in his arms and tried to nestle into the nook of his elbow only to have her quest for comfort thwarted by his armour. She blinked awake blearily with a grumpy pout that Arthur found stupidly endearing before she shot up with starling speed, narrowly missing a crack to Arthur’s jaw on the way.

“The Fires?” She asked, question loud in the absence of bustle.

“They’re lit.” Merlin sighed and it turned into a hiss when she turned her head, hand sliding up to massage the kink in her neck. Now that she thought about of, her body was riddled with uncomfortable snags.

“Bugger.” She said wearily, using a combination of the wall and Arthur’s shoulder to get her feet back under her. Merlin teetered precariously and nearly fell over had it not been for Arthur’s firm grip around her bicep. She smiled sheepishly. 

“Why is everyone asleep?”

Merlin tried to think but her memory eluded her. “It must be some kind of sickness, the work of magic.”

Arthur took in her ashen countenance and had to agree. Merlin insisted that she felt fine and though that was most definitely up for debate, they hadn’t the time so he grabbed her hand and led the way. Merlin kept pace well enough but her breath was coming out in quick pants by the time they reached Morgana’s chambers.

It was void of life, at least it appeared so until the curtains moved. Morgana brandished a dagger at them when Arthur snatched the curtain away and she sagged in relief at the sight of them. She was scared and confused but she was awake. 

“Morgana! What’s happened?”

“People were complaining, saying they were ill. They started falling asleep, everyone, everywhere I went.”

“Was someone here?” Morgana shook her head. “Then why were you hiding?”

“I didn’t know who you were.” Arthur conceded to that, it was a fair point. Morgana was flighty and he chanced a look at Merlin, she was leaning heavily against the bedpost with her mouth parted slightly with heavy breaths. He sighed and took the lead, continuing the search for the king. 

With Arthur striding out in front of them, Merlin moved alongside Morgana who was looking suspiciously guilty but mostly confused. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”

Morgana eyed her, “About what?”

“The illness, I’m sure it’s not your doing but there must be something keeping you safe and I think its your magic. ”

“What about you? You’ve magic and you’re affected.”

“That’s the bit I can’t figure. I was asleep like the rest but Arthur woke me so I can only assume my powers are protecting me to some extent.” It was said vaguely because Merlin knew that her magic had actually reacted to Arthur’s proximity in that fierce way it always did when he was near. It was traitorous like that.

They found Uther flopped over on his desk with a crop report plastered to his cheek. Arthur righted him just enough to check for pulse and then set him back against the tabletop. He looked at Morgana, “You’re the only person that’s not been affected, there has to be a reason.”

Merlin came to her rescue with a half baked excuse, “It’s obvious. When she started feeling sick, Gaius gave her potion. Right?” She gave Morgana a meaningful look and she nodded, thankful for the save. 

Arthur just sighed. He wasn’t stupid and he knew there was more to it than that, didn’t miss the look Merlin shot at Morgana but didn’t bother pursuing the matter. He hadn’t the time to think about what it might mean. He left Morgana to guard Uther, unable to deal with her fidgeting.

Handing off his sword, Arthur captured Merlin’s hand once more and pulled her along by the leash of their joined arms. He moved with purpose through the castle in a blind search for answers and his feet followed his gut out onto the battlement. Apparently instinct led him to the threat because there was eight riders thundering across the meadow that bordered Camelot.

“The legends speak of seven Knights of Medhir.” She panted, leaning heavily against the stone barrier as the wind blow dried the perspiration at her temples.

“Then who’s the extra rider?” Arthur quizzed from behind her, his hand resting comfortingly against her lower back as they stared down. 

“I don’t know…” It was said with an aloof tone that Arthur didn’t like one bit and he knew Merlin was withholding something from him, knew more than she was letting on.

“Merlin,” His voice was warning, “Who is the extra rider?” Arthur made sure his voice demanded truth, was as commanding when with his men and it felt wrong taking that tone with her.

“Morgause.” She replied with uncharacteristic acerbity, the name spat out like poison but it didn’t explain how she could possibly know that.

“How can you be sure?”

“I just am, you’re going to have to trust me.” He didn’t like it. Didn’t like that she was keeping secrets and he hated the desperate way she asked for his trust. He wondered if Merlin had lied to him in the past because she sure knew how to divert his focus away from the pressing questions. Must’ve had practice.

“Fine.” With the castle defenceless they had to make his father’s safety a priority. No matter what he’d done, Camelot would crumble with its ruler and Arthur knew deep down that he was not ready to be king.

Dragging Uther’s body through the castle drained what little energy Merlin had managed to cultivate and she was struggling to draw in breath. Hot and cold all at once and fresh sweat dampened her hair. They couldn’t stay in Arthur’s chambers, it was too obvious. Merlin looked at him, eyes zeroing in on the beads of moisture on his temple, the elevated rise and fall of his chest, “You’re getting sick.” She breathed.

Arthur didn’t say anything, just swiped at his forehead with an armoured forearm that only smeared the sweat around rather than soak it up. Merlin drew in a deep breath and pushed off the table, ignoring the white that stole her vision for a moment, “I’ll be back.”

Arthur’s gloved hand shot out to catch her wrist, “Where do you think you’re going? I’m not letting you out of my sight while immortal knights are roaming the castle.”

“I need to get something from Gaius’s. It can help us put an end to this,” She covered his hand with her own, “Trust me.”

There it was again. Cryptic answers that offered no real explanation. An ambiguous response that could mean anything, always finished off by a demand for his trust. It was starting to nag at him, the feeling that she was hiding something catastrophic. And yet, she behests trust from him when she will not give him hers. It hurt in the most basic of ways.

Exhausted bruising had made a home under her eyes, bright against the pallor of her skin and they were pleading for something unfair. Arthur unhanded her wrist, trying and failing to withhold the resentment that twisted his face and sharpened his voice, “Fine.”

Hurt skittered across Merlin’s face but he turned away from her, dismissive in the set of his shoulders. She hadn’t the right to be upset with him, not while she lied. Acrimony unfurled in his chest, sour at the back of his throat. Morgana was frowning between them, though her scorn settled on him when Merlin clicked out of the room. 

Merlin ventured to the dungeons, bypassing the guards whose snores echoed in the quiet, their game of dice abandoned. Pressing on, she found herself leaning against the grotesquely damp wall that barricaded the stairs, feeling her way down blindly. She couldn’t afford to waste energy on something as frivolous as a seeing light. When she made it onto the rocky outcrop, Kilgharrah was snoozing on his boulder.

“Why is everyone asleep?” He gave a hearty snore, “Don’t pretend. I know you’re listening to me, you useless lizard.” 

The insult roused him as she knew it would. The familiar clank of his chain reverberated around the cavernous space, jostled by his movement. He yawned dramatically and unfolded his wings, dislodging an avalanche of loose stone in his wake. “I do not need to listen to you, Merlin.”

“You always say the same thing, “Help me!”, and yet you refuse to give anything in return.” Merlin was already regretting her decision to come down here, unsure why she thought this self-serving reptile would be of any help. “Now you will face the consequence of that.”

“Gods, fine, whatever. I’ll figure it out myself,” She yelled, and then muttered to herself, “Great, hulking, good-for-nothing reptile.” But the cave was vast and empty so her mutterings echoed around anyway.

“This is not something you can do alone, young witch.”

“Then stop rabbiting on and tell me what you want! I’ve no time for your long-winded rubbish today and I’m in no state to deal with your attitude.”

Kilgharrah eyed her beadily, judging and thoughtful and Merlin hated the satisfied gleam in his eye and had to clench her jaw to withhold anger when he had the audacity to laugh victoriously, “You must promise that you will release me.”

Merlin scoffed, “Sure, and if I do that you’ll destroy Camelot in your hatred of Uther.”

“Nevertheless, you must promise, or Camelot will fall.” 

Checkmate. Merlin loathed him for it, “I swear on my mother’s life.” She bit out, anger temporarily overriding the exhaustion that pulled at her bones. Kilgharrah leant forward, like a snake reaching for food, eyes gleeful and triumphant.

“Now that is an oath I believe you will honour. Very well, it is one thing to cast a spell to put everyone asleep. The power to maintain it is a very different matter. It will need more than just words to break this enchantment.”

“Elaborate?”

“You must eradicate the source. Such spells need a vessel, a constant living presence to give them strength. The source of this pestilence, is the witch, the Lady Morgana.”

“It can’t be!”

“I have warned you about her in the past, and you have failed to heed my word. She is dangerous.”

“No…”

“And now she had chosen to turn her back on her own. The spell is woven with such magic of such power that even you are not immune, you must act now, before it is too late. You must kill her.”

Merlin opened her mouth to protest but he spoke over her, “If you do not, then Camelot will fall and Arthur will die. And the future you were destined to share together, will die with you.”

She really hated coming to him for help. A promise that could level the kingdom in exchange for the order to kill a friend. Kilgharrah was many things, selfish being one of them, but his council had never failed her and that meant she had to do something she really didn’t want to. 

Turning away, Merlin left Kilgharrah with a heavy heart and guilt had already begun to plague her. With the hemlock poisoning the waterskin from Gaius’s chambers clutched in a white knuckled grip, Merlin made her way back to Arthur’s chambers. She was nearly there when a hand grabbed her shoulder and yanked her into a tight archway, a gloved hand covered her mouth, fingertips pressing into her cheek.

It was Arthur, close enough that she could smell the steel of his armour. His hand slid away from her mouth and she breathed into the empty space between them, eyes finding Arthur’s slightly parted lips. His other hand lingered on her shoulder.

Leaning into her space, Arthur peered around the stone, chest pushing Merlin further against the wall until her sweaty back was flush with it. There was a tense to his body that had Merlin twisting her neck around to see what caused it. Morgause, marching ahead of the Knights of Medhir with a sword at her side. Like she needed it.

Merlin knew the tensing of his legs was in preparation of an attack and she placed a firm hand against his chest. His body was rigid, straining against her weak hold to be let loose but Merlin pressed harder. Her magic flared excitedly at the contact and without knowing, it seeped into Arthur.

Arthur, who suddenly felt more awake and more calm, body relaxing under Merlin’s touch. He puzzled at it, not even skin to skin contact and yet it felt as though it was. Arthur had also looked down to catch the change in her eyes. Unmistakable, the gold that receded to made way for a tired blue. 

A lot slotted into place, her cryptic answers and evasive question dodging. The magical threats that couldn’t be killed by swords that happened to fall to Arthur’s in particular. Merlin, in her fatigued state, didn’t seem to realise that she had just done magic in front of him. On him, to be specific, the crown bloody prince of a kingdom that would happily behead her. 

There was a war being waged inside his head but he didn’t have time to choose sides or sort through his dizzying array of emotions. Instead, he grabbed onto a swaying Merlin and pulled her backwards before marching her back to his chambers. She was unnervingly pliant and in the sorry state she was in, Arthur didn’t have the heart to be angry with her. Not when she had unwittingly restored his strength at the cost of her own.

Before they could reach their destination, a substantial black figure blocked their path, standing imposingly in the archway that led to Arthur’s chambers. Shoving Merlin behind the safety of his body, Arthur twirled his sword as the knight approached with it’s black armour and stone mask. It swung its heavy sword at him and before he could block it, a startling shout bounced around him, “Ástryce!”

The knight received the blow and was propelled through the air with alarming force. Arthur swung around, astonished to see Merlin’s hand jutted out and gold burning in her eyes. He couldn’t help the involuntary back step, legs moving of their own accord to get him away from the sorcerer. 

When blue returned, Merlin swayed dangerously and fell to her knees, wobbly arms flying out to stop her from falling on her face and her heavy breaths filled the silence. Magic. Again. Arthur could only put it down to addled mind because why the hell else would she use it so blatantly in front of him. The truth pulled at his shoulders and he found himself swallowing past the fear that clawed at his throat.

Arthur forced himself to touch her, to hook his arms around hers and lift. Merlin was dead weight, malleable and barely lucid. Their progress would be too slow if she walked on her own so Arthur hauled her over his shoulder and took off at a run. 

Seeing Merlin did nothing to calm Morgana and her fervent hands grabbed at Merlin’s face when Arthur dropped her onto his mattress. Merlin looked so helpless like this, powerless. The knowledge that she was anything but was plaguing his mind and he didn’t know what to do with the information, didn’t know how to deal with the betrayal.

Merlin didn’t stay on the bed long, stubbornly rolling back to her feet and asking what they were going to do next. Next, was pulling Uther through the castle on a bed sheet and trying to avoid the immortal knights that lurked through the halls.

They made it to the throne room and Merlin barricaded the door behind them, leaning back against it with eyelids like lead while she caught her breath. Distantly, she heard Arthur interrogating Morgana about the remedy Gaius gave her, not that he’d get any answers. There was no remedy. “We have to destroy the source of the magic.”

Her voice quieted Arthur’s investigation, both he and Morgana turning to look at her.  
“Which is?” Arthur prompted impatiently. Merlin’s eyes found Morgana’s, heart clenching painfully at the terror she saw there.

“I can’t,” Merlin shook her head, hair swaying around her in a curtain that did nothing to hide the anguish in her voice. “Morgana…did you meet with Morgause?”

She couldn’t look up from the floor, unable to look at Morgana after the accusation. Not wanting to see the look on Arthur’s face. The room was quiet, the walls held their breath and the air thickened with tension. “Morgana?” Arthur asked, something vulnerable in his voice.

“I-I…yes.” She sounded ashamed and Merlin knew she didn’t want this, didn’t know that Morgause had used her. Arthur sucked in a sharp breath and found himself suffocating with all these betrayals. First from the woman he loved and then from someone who had been like a sister to him.

Merlin stuttered forward and braced her hands on Morgana’s shoulders, felt the terrified quiver of her body and spoke with a firm voice, “You are not to blame. You hear me? You didn’t know, you weren’t to know and I’m not angry with you.”

Morgana nodded with guilty eyes, clinging onto Merlin’s words like they were gospel and she asked a question that Merlin didn’t want to answer, “But you have to destroy me?”

A grim nod, “Yes.” Merlin leant in to whisper the next bit so Arthur wouldn’t hear it. “I have a spell that will bring you back, I will not let you die.” 

Arthur, not wanting to bare witness to whatever came next, strode to the door with the comforting weight of a sword in his hand. Merlin tracked his movement and released Morgana, stumbling forward to meet him by the barricade. “You can’t go out there.”

“I’m the prince, Merlin, I don’t take orders from you,” Her hand reached for him but he caught her wrist firmly and looked hard into her eyes. “I can buy you time.”

“It’s suicide! I can’t lose you.” She sounded afraid, like losing him was more terrifying than losing her own life. Arthur’s hand released her wrist only to capture her cheek, his glove growing wet against her clammy skin. 

“Merlin…” He wanted to say, _I love you_ , but he couldn’t, not while there was so many secrets between them. Not when the wound of her betrayal was still so raw. Not when she was lying. After this, he decided, they were going to have a very long chat, and if Merlin chose not to be truthful then she wasn’t who he thought she was.

After Arthur vanished into the fray of knights that were waiting outside the door, Merlin dropped the barricade back into place with an aching heart. She trudged over to Morgana, who hadn’t moved, and procured the hemlock for her to see.

“I’m scared, Merlin,” It was in her eyes, “I don’t want to die.”

“You won’t, I promise you. If we don’t do this then Camelot will fall. Please, Morgana, you know I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t have to.” 

The violent tremble of Morgana’s hand was gut wrenching, but her fingers curled around the small bottle and took it from Merlin’s grip. A nervous swallow and a fumbling uncorking and then the liquid within was flowing down Morgana’s throat.

An unforgiving chill seized her airways and she clawed at it, desperate to make it stop. Desperate for breath. Morgana coughed and wheezed and Merlin caught her as she fell, the force of it dragging them both to the floor. They were both crying, one of fear and one of remorse. 

The doors were blasted of their hinges and Morgause came stalking in, making a hasty beeline to Morgana but Merlin flung a hand out protectively, “Stay away from her!”

“What have you done?” Morgause was uncharacteristically frantic, panicked, and Merlin wondered why because Morgause very rarely showed emotion.

“I had no choice, this is your doing!”

“You poisoned her? Tell me what you used and I can save her.” Morgause seemed to have forgotten that she was the one who taught Merlin everything she knew about toxicology.

“Stop the attack.”

“You don’t tell me what to do, you are nothing.”

“I am a High Priestess, just like you. We are equals, unless you’ve forgotten?” Morgause sneered viciously at her, “Undo the magic that drives the knights.”

“Tell me the poison or you’ll die!”

“Then she’ll die with me.” It was risky to bluff about this and it was incredibly hard to act impassive when her friend was dying in her arms. Morgause looked torn and Merlin could only hope that her odd affection for Morgana would outweigh her desire to destroy Camelot.

With an angry twitch of her eye, Morgause began to unravel her magic, “Astýre ús þanonweard! Cnihtas Medhires, éower sáwla. Rid eft ond forsliehð eft.”

With the enchantment broken, Merlin felt her strength slowly return. Morgause, thwarted and enraged, chanted herself away in a flurry of wind and Merlin let out a strangled sob, pulling Morgana closer and resting a hand over her head, “Meltane þone hymlic, lácnung se blod.”

The colour returned to Morgana’s cheeks just as Arthur came skidding into the room, out of breath and sweaty, but alive and with an throng of knights behind him. Behind her, Uther was waking and Merlin cradled Morgana closer, tears streaking down her face.

\- -

Morgana was stolen from under their noses. Whisked away in the dark of night by Morgause and Merlin feared for the future. Feared how Morgause would twist Morgana’s mind, manipulate her, poison her against Camelot. Against Arthur.

Uther was devastated by the loss and his heart grew impossibly colder. But with Morgause at large, it was the people of Camelot that suffered his wrath and the kingdom was choked by his hatred. 

Merlin was still riddled with guilt over what she had to do and she was to be given no relief because the oath she had sworn brought chaos to the kingdom. The guilt ate at her, chewing steadily at her conscience as Kilgharrah lay siege to the castle. It had been two days since she had wielded Excalibur and broke the chains and the night had been lit by fire ever since. For all his talk of destiny and protecting Camelot he was doing a brilliant job of destroying it. Hypocritical bastard.

The sun surrendered to the moon and the courtyard became a hive of activity. Guards and servants running around with buckets of water in a desperate attempt the smother the fires, but Kilgharrah just swooped down and relit them. The smoke that stifled the air caught the glow of flames and the skies of Camelot burned red. 

The air they breathed was hot and it burnt with every inhale, the foul stench of blood only adding to the sickening climate. Merlin was tending to the wounded in the infirmary, filled to overflow with people. Innocent victims of Kilgharrah’s rancour. Innocent victims that wouldn’t be in here if Merlin hadn’t set him free. “The people cannot survive a fourth night of this.”

Gaius looked up wearily from the bandage he was wrapping around a man’s arm before focusing back on the task, “You must trust in Arthur.”

“I do, but even he has little chance.” She bustled around, tending to those she could and sending the more severe cases into unconsciousness with magic, anything to alleviate the suffering she had caused. Anything to alleviate her own guilt. Merlin wound her way back to Gaius, “We’ve no clean water left.”

“I know, but it’s too dangerous to go out there.” He pointed at the doors with a needle but Merlin grabbed a bucket anyway. Ignoring Gaius’s pleas for her not to, she shouldered open the door and her nose was assaulted by the foul air outside. Coughing against the attack on her senses, she rushed across the courtyard and found the well. Merlin blinked rapidly, acrid smoke drying her eyes and making them water all at once.

People ran around her and screams were the only other thing she could that wasn’t the angry spit of raging fire. The courtyard was a disaster zone with huge chunks of the castle’s walls scattered around, upturned carts and abandoned belongs. Overhead, Kilgharrah roared.

Her bucket was nearly full when Arthur’s voice rang out over the cacophony, “Clear the square!” Merlin sought him out through the smoke and found him only by the glint of his armour, refraction of the firelight. Kilgharrah’s shadow slithered across the cobblestones. “Merlin!”

Ignoring the warning, she continued to pump the well, determined to get those patients clean water but she heard the telltale whoosh of Kilgharrah arching into a dive. Merlin turned around, task forgotten as her eyes found the dragon. Kilgharrah extended his foreleg with the intention of striking her down and Christ, he really was only ever helping himself. 

Arthur’s arm slammed against her back and they went diving toward the floor, Kilgharrah’s lethal claw missing its target as he glided back up into the sky. But maybe not, because Arthur groaned beside her and clutched at his chest. Not that it would stop him from pulling her up and hustling her back into the safety of the castle.

Once inside and surrounded by cleaner air, Merlin glowered at him for being stupid enough to risk his life for her. Arthur glowered right back, wondering why she was stupid enough the go out in the open like an idiot. A mutual sentiment.

Arthur still let himself be dragged into the hospital and didn’t argue when Merlin’s deft fingers started peeling away the layers of his armour. Between Morgana’s kidnapping and the dragon, Arthur hadn’t found the time to talk to her about what had happened. But a larger part of him didn’t want to, preferring to ignore the problem and pretend he hadn’t seen anything at all. Play the fool and pretend he didn’t know she had magic.

His sweat soaked skin quivered when exposed to the air and he sighed when Merlin tentatively pressed a wet cloth to his chest. Annoyed that he wasn’t outside protecting his people. A guilty furrowed nested between Merlin’s brows and her lips were pressed together unhappily, “You shouldn’t have risked your life like that.”

There was a fond smile on his face before he could stop it and Merlin’s eyes had flicked up to his mouth so he let it stay there. “I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you.”

Which was true, because Merlin might be a little bit magic but she had a good heart and she was far from corrupted. The care she was showing his people in their time of need proved that, and Arthur was grateful that she could bring comfort where he could not. Besides, if Merlin meant Camelot harm Arthur was quite certain she would have done away with him by now.

Merlin’s hand fell away from his chest but Arthur drew her back. The white of her hand stark against the blood and dirt that darkened his chest. Arthur gave her hand a small squeeze he wasn’t sure she felt, but Merlin dipped her head to hide the curve of her lips and resumed tending to him. Across the room, Gaius smiled knowingly.

\- -

“The dead number 49 men, 27 women,” Arthur reported, “A further 18 women and children are unaccounted for. Most of last night’s fires are now out. The castle walls, in particular the Western section, are near to collapse…I could go on.”

“Do we have any idea how this beast escaped?” Uther asked.

“I regret to say, sire, we don’t” Leon’s voice was regretful and from the corner of the room, Merlin swallowed and shifted uneasily. Arthur ungloved his hands and dropped down into one of Uther’s chairs.

“There must be some way to rid us of this aberration.” Uther implored, moving to gaze out the window at the destruction of his kingdom. There was a pregnant pause, “Gaius?”

“We need a Dragonlord, sire.”

“You know very well that’s not an option.” Arthur frowned at the exchange.

“Sire, what if…there was indeed one last Dragonlord left?”

“Go on.” Merlin puzzled at the look Gaius gave her, it was apologetic. Arthur leaned forward in his seat, the look not going unnoticed by him.

“There is a noble bloodline that was thought to have been the first to discover the power over dragons. The power was inherent, dormant in their pedigree until they faced their first dragon. It is an ancient family, sire, and the only one to have survived the purge.”

“How is this possible?”

“I’m not sure, sire,” Gaius had smuggled the Dragonlord from Camelot, “Last I heard he was living in Caerleon.” Merlin felt dread settle in her stomach.

“Of which House do you speak?”

“The House of Ambrosias, sire.” Merlin’s world came to a stuttering stop and she couldn’t hear past the rush of blood in her ears. This had to be a mistake because Merlin couldn’t think of a single reason as to why this little slice of information had been kept from her. 

“No…” Merlin couldn’t think, couldn’t feel. Her breath was coming out in short, sharp puffs and the insufficient intake was spiralling her to hysteria. Her hands trembled and a wave of dizziness had her stumbling back. Away from the pity of Gaius, away from the hatred of Uther, away from the suspicions of the council.

With hot tears wetting her lips, she fled from the room. Merlin was distantly aware of footsteps coming after her and fear, so strong it froze her blood, urged her into a run, desperate to avoid arrest. The work of Dragonlords is too close to magic and Uther would surely have her head. But the boots behind her didn’t stop, they sped up and the fear abandoned her blood to seize her throat and she couldn’t breath through the panic.

Arms wrapped around her from behind and she screamed with fright, ripped from her throat as the arms tightened. Merlin’s legs gave out and all the fight left left her as sobs shook her body and tears stung her eyes. 

But the arms followed her down, strong and unwavering and Merlin curled into herself. She was bundled into someone’s lap and she clung onto the tunic she found, needing something to anchor to. The tears were so plentiful that she struggled to draw in air but a low voice hushed her and Merlin remembered to breathe, calmed by the vibration of their chest. 

The smell of linen and beeswax invaded her nose and she sobbed into the familiarity, shoved her wet face into Arthur’s chest. A hand soothed circles onto her back while another threaded through her hair, thumb rubbing the nape of her neck.

“I’ve got you.” Merlin’s breath stuttered on an inhale and she curled into him, nose burrowing into his chest. Arthur curled around her protectively, dropping his head and muttering nonsense into her hair. 

When the sobs eased to small sniffles and her body stopped shaking, Arthur used the grip on her hair to angle her head up so that he could press kisses to her cheeks. His lips picked up the residual moisture, chapping with salt. Arthur looked behind him and was thankful that no one had followed them out. He was the only witness to Merlin’s lapse in strength so he picked her up, knees clicking at the awkward angle but her hands had a death-grip on his tunic.

Away from prying eyes, Arthur deposited Merlin onto his bed and had to uncurl her fingers from his shirt. She nestled into his pillow, face disappearing under a blanket of hair. Arthur rubbed her back from his seat on the edge of the mattress. “Did you know?”

“No,” She said through the muffle of the pillow. “I should have. My parents had no right to keep this from me.”

Arthur hummed, not sure what to say. Merlin sighed heavily beneath his hand. The room was quiet until Merlin turned her head, hair webbing across her face. Arthur reached out to brush it away, revealing her red eyes and flushed cheeks and the adorable scrunch of her nose. She really had no right to look that cute after a cry but the red in her eyes only made the blue more vibrant.

She huffed, “Not that it makes a sodding difference, Dragonlords are men,” Arthur watched a fresh tear drop across her nose onto the pillow. “And my father is dead.” 

Arthur stroked her hair, soft apart from the waves by her face that crunched with salt but a few passes of his fingers restored their velvet. Merlin looked right at home in his bed, tired eyes half closed with sleep. Her hand was rested on the covers by the pillow, fingers kneading at the fabric absentmindedly. Arthur was struck with the ridiculous desire to see her under the covers, red sheets pooling around bare shoulders.

Merlin sighed again, softer this time, eyelids lowering into slumber and Arthur continued carding his fingers through her hair, gradually getting softer until only his fingertips were disturbing the curls. He pulled his hand back and in her sleep, Merlin made a small noise in protest so Arthur returned it fondly, resting it against her forearm. 

The telltale click of his door had Arthur forcing his eyes away from Merlin, body subtly shifting to shield her from view. It was just Gaius, looking remorseful as he rightfully should for bring up Merlin’s private information before the entire council without informing her first. “She’s sleeping.”

Gaius nodded but lumbered forward anyway, eyebrow arching knowingly at the point of contact between he and Merlin but Arthur didn’t move his hand away. She shifted in her sleep until her thigh was pressing a line of heat against Arthur’s lower back.

“I shouldn’t have done what I did.”

“No. You shouldn’t have.” Arthur snapped, irrationally fierce and Gaius’s brow climbed higher. Arthur sighed and watched the daylight dim through the windows. “Sorry, Gaius, I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.”

“It’s alright, my boy. There’s a lot of pressure on those young shoulders of yours.” Arthur nodded and felt the weight grow heavier with impending night, the last slivers of sun muted by dusk. The dragon would be upon them within the hour. His eyes dropped back to Merlin’s face, more relaxed than he had seen in days.

“Can she defeat the dragon?” He asked quietly, not looking at Gaius but he knew his eyebrow went impossibly higher. He stoked his thumb across Merlin’s arm.

“If a Dragonlord…fails to sire a son, it is possible that the powers can be passed on to the eldest born daughter. Though I must warn you, only men have tamed dragons in the past.” The information hung in the air, stifling in the rapidly darkening room. 

“Is she the eldest born?”

“Merlin is on only child, sire.” Arthur’s mouth settled into a grim line. That’s a yes then. “It is rare for a Dragonlord’s first born to be female, there is no guarantee that she will have enough power.” Arthur thought about the magic then. Something he hadn’t let himself ponder over since he found out and prayed to every God there was that she could tame this dragon. Because if Merlin didn’t have the power, then Camelot would be burnt to ruins.

When Arthur lifted his head again, Gaius was gone. Merlin stirred beside him. Arthur rose from the bed, gently rearranging Merlin so that she wouldn’t roll onto the floor before leaving. He spared her one more glance, incase tonight went horribly wrong, and his heart clenched to go back to her but Arthur sucked in a resolved breath and pulled the door closed. Content that at least Merlin would be safe in his chambers.

With 15 men at his back, Arthur rode out of Camelot in haste to beat the setting sun. They didn’t reach their destination until the moon had been hung, dark sky eerie above them. Great wings beat in the air above them and Arthur craned his neck, searching for the foreboding figure and found it circling above them like a vulture.

“Hold firm.” He instructed his men, donning a helmet and waiting for the dragon to launch its attack. The beat of air grew faster as the beast propelled itself downward, a javelin of power headed straight for them. The horses whinnied anxiously and stomped their hooves. “Hold!”

The dragon grew dangerously close, “Now!”

The knights scattered and the dragon landed when they had been, surrounded by a ring of swords. A lethal swing of its tail sent half the knights to the ground and their riderless horses escaped into the woods. Arthur pushed up from the dewy grass and could only watch helplessly as the rest of his men were engulfed by a jet of fire.

It was just him and the dragon, which had turned its glowing eyes onto him. Arthur stared up at the dragon, looming over him like he was little more than pest as it unlatched its mighty maw to spit fire. Arthur rolled to avoid being singed to a crisp and the dragon’s distraction gave him the perfect opening.

An upward jab sent his spear tearing through the dragon’s armpit and it reared up with a deafening roar, a triad of claws swinging down to toss Arthur aside like a rag doll. He rolled over with a wince and the dragon turned around to finish him off but then Merlin was there.

Atop Ronin and shrouded by a black cape, she was ethereal. The dragon diverted from Arthur and before he could yell at her to get the hell out of here, a voice that didn’t belong to her boomed around the forest. “Dragorn! Non didlkai. Kari miss, epsipass imalla krat. Katostar abore cerise. Katicur. Me ta sentende divoless. Kar…krisass.”

Commanding and guttural. That was all Arthur could describe it as and his jaw went slack when the dragon _bowed_ before her. Merlin urged her horse closer, until she was mere meters away from dragon’s jaws. It was a sight to behold: Wild black curls blowing beside her face, the cape almost as shiny as Ronin’s obsidian coat in the moonlight.

Fury set her jaw, she was regal and powerful and striking and Arthur was startled by the arousal that flared at the sight of it. Merlin, with a dragon bowed before her like she was its queen. The dragon’s unexpected voice boomed, “I am the last of my kind, Merlin. Whatever wrongs I have done, do not make me responsible for the death of my noble breed.”

“Noble? You are a hypocrite. You speak of prophecy and Albion and yet you seek to destroy it. You are so blinded by hatred and revenge that you would doom Camelot and the kill the man I have sworn to protect. You have killed innocents in your vendetta of hate for Uther. You, Kilgharrah, are no better than him.

Arthur hadn’t known the dragon’s name but Merlin did, which probably meant they had been previously acquainted which was an oddly unsurprising tidbit. Kilgharrah puffed an angry cloud of smoke from his nostrils in lieu of fire. “Leave! Attack Camelot again and it will be the last thing you do, I can promise you that.”

“Young witch, what you have shown is what you will be.” Said cryptically as ever. “I will not forget your clemency.” 

Merlin watched him fly away, toward the White Mountains and released a shaky breath. Ronin tossed his head and she remember that she was not alone. Arthur was on the ground, poised like he was mid push up, mouth open and eyes wide. Merlin shifted uncomfortably in the saddle and dropped her gaze.

Arthur, who finally snapped his mouth shut, finished pushing to his feet and cleared his throat. Mortified by his gaping he also let his eyes skitter away.

Upon returning to Camelot, Arthur claimed the victory as his own. _I dealt it a mortal blow_. It felt wrong and the dishonesty was sour on his tongue but Merlin would be safer if his father thought she had no powers. She definitely did, quite the litany it would seem, but Uther didn’t need to know that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Spells:
> 
> “Meltane þone hymlic, lácnung se blod” = "Dissolve the hemlock, cure the blood"


	3. Season 3

Fidgety and skittish was an accurate summation of Merlin’s general existence. Jumping at every unexpected bang and always looking over her shoulder. Ever since the dragon, she hadn't been able to relax, but really, it was Arthur’s fault. He kept giving her these weird looks, like she was a puzzling enigma and it was driving her insane. And if it wasn’t that then he was not-so-subtly following her around with an indecipherable look on his face. Maddening.

So, when a rap on the door chimed through her chambers Merlin could be forgiven for jumping, shoulder scrapping uncomfortably against the window frame. Her eyes flicked to the closed door and away from the stars she’d been intently watching. Merlin rose from the window seat and treaded warily to the door.

She cracked the door open just enough to see and found herself looking up at Arthur. His eyes moved across her face in that oddly contemplative way before they settled on her own. “Can I come in?”

A shallow nod and Merlin granted entry by widening the gap in the door. Arthur moved inside and cast a nebby glance around her room. Merlin pressed the door shut behind him and moved swiftly back to the hearth. She loved that it faced the foot of her bed, it had definitely made winter more bearable. It was with a whispered curse that Merlin released she was only in her nightgown.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Arthur followed her to the fire. The fleet of candles that illuminated her room were now little more than sad stubs of wax with weak flames and it provided little light. 

Merlin shrugged a shoulder, “’S fine, you didn’t wake me.” The fire crackled beside them and Merlin took in Arthur’s bare feet and rumpled pants, his sleep shirt unlaced and loose around his chest.

“I wanted to talk…about what happened with the dragon.” And that was something Merlin would really rather not talk about that. At all.

“What about it?” She clipped, defensive.

“I haven’t had the chance to thank you,” Merlin blinked. “I owe you my kingdom, Camelot would be rubble if not for you.”

Merlin was speechless for moment. Taken off guard by the rare display of gratitude, from Arthur of all people, she blinked again. “Oh, that’s-“

“And your magic.”

“What?” Arthur moved forward, two swift steps bringing him mere inches from Merlin’s face and her eyes went wide. Her heart thundered against her ribs, violently enough that she could feel a pulse through her entire body, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

A cold line pressed against her neck, a thin strip of pressure Merlin couldn’t mistake as anything other than a blade. Arthur’s eyes were calm, void of hatred or disgust, fingers steady around the dagger’s hilt.

“Merlin.” With the firelight casting one side of his face into shadow, Merlin realised how minacious Arthur could be. She had forgotten how ice-cold his anger was and though he was not currently furious with her, his eyes sparked with the possibility of explosion.

“Yes.”

The dangerous edge slipped away from his expression, and Merlin realised that it had been a test. But the blade didn’t waver from its threat and she swallowed against it, the motion of her throat pushing the steel into her skin. Merlin straightened her back and set her shoulders proudly.

“I have magic,” Arthur sucked in a breath. “To heal or to harm, it is mine to wield.” Something flickered across Arthur’s face and the pressure of his dagger eased. His eyes narrowed for the briefest of seconds before his features smoothed out, gaze calculating.

“How powerful are you?” 

Merlin searched his eyes, “More powerful than you could comprehend. I am the daughter of the skies, the seas, the earth, and I was born of a magic so ancient that there is nothing I cannot command.”

Arthur was enthralled.

“I am a High Priestess of the Old Religion, the Last Dragonlord and the most powerful sorceress to have ever walked the earth, known to the Druids as Emrys.”

Beside them, the fire roared excitedly at her words. Merlin waited patiently for Arthur to process the information, watching close enough that she saw the very second it all clicked into place for him. He moved back a pace and Merlin expelled a relieved breath when the dagger fell away, clattering harmlessly to the floor. Merlin stood there with goosebumps running down her bare arms while Arthur stared. He looked beautiful. The low light softened his features and made him look soft in ways she found absurdly attractive. His sleep shirt was well worn and she could see the outline of his body through the thin fabric.

“Show me.”

Merlin stopped looking at the glinting ring around his thumb, head snapping up. Surely, Arthur Pendragon, son of the anti-magic tyrant, didn’t just ask her to perform magic. But yes, he must have because he was staring back at her with open curiosity and an impatience that only Arthur could manage. He watched her carefully and had to bite back a gasp when Merlin’s eyes transformed. She didn’t utter a word, so without warning, the familiar blue was consumed by the light of the sun. They were lucent in the dimness, but then it wasn’t dim and Arthur looked up to see stars.

Hundreds and hundreds of tiny golden lights glittered above them, like Merlin had created a thousand micro-suns, but no, that wasn’t right. They were more like stars. She had given him an astral sky. “Merlin…”

The lights started shifting into a new exhibit, organising themselves until the Pendragon crest shone proudly above them. Arthur was raptured, overwhelmed by the beauty of it and then his crest was transforming again, but this time, the dragon was flying circles around him. He followed it as it drifted over to Merlin and settled across her shoulders, golden scales just as vivid as the lambency of her eyes. Merlin cupped her hands and brought them to her mouth and when she opened them, a little bluebird fluttered out.

Arthur could help the delighted bark of laughter that escaped when the bird flew to his outstretched hand, settling warmly atop his palm. It gave a satisfied chirp before disappearing, leaving behind a fine blue dust that circled around in his palm until it formed a very familiar orb.

“You?” Arthur looked wildly between the shimmery orb and the comforting blue of Merlin’s eyes and she nodded with a pleased smile. She let the orb blink out of existence and the room returned to low-light. “That was beautiful.”

Arthur surged forward to cup her face and crush their lips together. Merlin released a surprised moan, skin growing warm under his attention. She placed her hands against his chest and pushed lightly, amused by Arthur’s annoyed groan as he pulled away, “You’re not mad?”

“How could I be? You’re amazing,” He dropped an affectionate kiss on the tip of her nose and smiled down at her, stroking his thumbs over her cheekbones. Merlin grabbed his wrists gently. “You’re power is amazing.”

“I am yours to command.” Arthur’s eyes darkened and he was swooping back down. Surrendering control to Arthur seemed to free something within him, the kiss was demanding and Merlin melted into it.

Their breathing grew heavy and Merlin felt her arousal growing when Arthur deepened the kiss. With one hand curled around the back of her neck, Arthur used his free arm to lift Merlin up and he grunted as her legs hooked around his waist and brought their hips together. He tangled his fingers into her hair and yanked her head back to expose the smooth skin of her neck. Arthur thoroughly enjoyed the noises Merlin made as he trailed his lips over her skin and the occasional shift of her hips against his send sparks of pleasure up his spine.

Arthur growled into Merlin’s slender neck when her nails scraped through his hair, walking blindly until his shins hit the bed frame. Arthur pressed one more kiss to her jaw before grabbing her waist, lifting her up and throwing her onto the bed. She bounced against the mattress, scrambling away from Arthur when he joined her on the bed. Elusive and with a teasing smirk on her flushed face, Arthur gave chase and wrapped his hands around her ankles before dragging her toward him.

Arthur slid his hands up the smooth length of her legs, making time to squeeze her thighs, fingers gripping close enough to her centre that she drew in a shaky breath. He rose with the intent of removing his shirt but without warning, he found himself stark naked. The gold was just receding from Merlin’s eyes when he looked down at her and was pleased to see that her nightgown had vanished. She smiled coyly and gazed up through her lashes. Arthur covered her lithe body with his, plundering her mouth relentlessly while one of his hands began toying with her nipple. Merlin moaned and lifted her hips, no doubt wanting more contact, so Arthur moved just out of reach.

He abandoned Merlin’s plush lips to suck on the nipple that wasn’t getting any attention. He didn’t stay long, just enough to heighten her pleasure before he moved on. Arthur rose to his knees and gazed down at Merlin. With the fire reflecting in her eyes and casting a golden glow over her skin, dark hair splayed out, Arthur felt like he had a goddess before him.

He reached down to touch what was his, inundated with the need to claim her. Take the power she offered him and let the world know exactly who she belonged to. _She is mine_ , Arthur thought, _mine to take, mine to keep, mine to protect._ Arthur trailed a hand down her stomach until his fingers found her wet centre. He dipped a finger in without warning, watching her chest flush with arousal. He pumped it in and out once before he added another, and then other until he had three fingers shoved inside of her.

Arthur dragged his eyes away from her slack face to see her cunt. He was fixated by the sight of his thick fingers stretching her open and as he pumped them in and out. The wet sight of it made his cock jump, hot and heavy. Merlin’s slick had dampened the sheets, the inside of her thighs glistened with it. Merlin’s hands were bunching the sheets, fistfuls of linen being held captive by her fingers as she writhed around and moved her hips, seeking something deeper. Arthur, satisfied with her preparation, took his fingers away and spread their wetness along his length. Merlin had gone quiet and he looked up to see her watching intently, eyes following the stroke of his hand.

She met his eyes, bit her lip and lifted her hips impatiently, “Harlot,” Arthur said without heat. It only seemed to encourage her and she moved with more intent, trying to take control and Arthur wasn’t having any of that.

Leaning over her, Arthur used one hand to brace himself, and the other to establish dominance. Merlin’s breath hitched when his hand wrapped around her throat, tight enough that her body went pliant. Having the most powerful woman in the world submit to him was easily the most erotic thing Arthur had ever experienced. Without breaking eye contact, Arthur moved his hips until the blunt head of his cock found the slick hole it wanted. For a moment, he didn’t push in, and he felt Merlin’s pulse jump beneath his fingers and her pupils were blown wide. Then Arthur moved.

He pushed in slowly and found himself moaning at the tightness that greeted him. Merlin’s mouth fell open in pleasure as she was filled. She’s had sexual partners before but none so consuming as Arthur. His cock was stretching her impossibly wide and the slide of his hard length was ridiculously invasive. When Arthur was full seated, Merlin’s passage clenched around him and he stilled again, just to tease her. She tried to move her hips, but Arthur flexed the fingers around her throat in warning and she fell still again. A pleading moan, so desperate it was nearly a sob, was all it took for Arthur’s restraint to disappear.

Pulling almost all the way out, he slammed back in and the motion drew filthy noises out of Merlin’s mouth. Arthur set a brutal pace, relentless thrusts that had Merlin’s body jarring at the force of them.

Merlin felt the familiar build of pressure and her moans grew louder. Arthur shifted and the new angle had his cock stoking that spot deep inside her that made her vision blur in ecstasy. Arthur’s rock hard length was ramming her with such force, Merlin felt like she might split in two. His girth spread her wider than she’d ever been and his length was reaching places previously unexplored. 

Arthur could tell Merlin was close from the way her eyes fluttered shut and her thighs started to quiver around him. He rammed into her at a slightly different angle but it was enough. She clenched rhythmically around his cock, a guttural moan ripping from her throat. With a couple more thrusts, Arthur’s own orgasm crashed over him and in the haze of pleasure, he forgot to pull out. Merlin moaned again when she felt Arthur’s cum bath her insides, filling her with warmth. Arthur withdrew himself and Merlin’s walls ached at the loss. He flopped down beside her with a contented sigh and let the air cool his skin. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that he realised his mistake. 

Arthur shot up and looked down at Merlin’s unconcerned face with wide eyes. She quirked an eyebrow at him, “I didn’t pull out.”

Merlin waved a nonchalant hand at him, looking much to unbothered by the prospect of pregnancy. Then her eyes flashed quickly, gold flickering over them for the briefest of moments. “Don’t worry about it.”

Arthur continued to stare. Merlin rolled her eyes, “Spell to prevent babies.”

“Ah,” Mystery solved, Arthur shuffled up to the headboard and tossed the sheets back before shoving his legs under the blanket. Merlin leaned up on her elbow and watched Arthur make himself comfortable in her bed, clearly, he had no intention of returning to his own room.

“Well?” He tossed his head to the other side and Merlin smiled indulgently at him before moving herself into bed. Once settled under the covers, Arthur dragged Merlin into him and curled his arm around her protectively, tangling his legs around hers. Satiated and warm and wrapped around the woman he loves, it didn’t take long for Arthur to drift off.

\- - 

“-cannae believe she threw a ladle at me! Bloody radge of a woman.” Arthur’s brows twitched into a frown at the unfamiliar voice. Maybe Morris sent a replacement this morning. He must’ve forgotten to close the curtains because there was an obnoxious amount of light on his face. He kept his eyes closed.

“Messed with her scran once and she’s banished me from the kitchens, the daft twit.” Arthur recognised the snort of laughter of that followed the voice. It took him a minute but his sleep-addled brain remembered where he was. He breathed in and stretched his legs out under the covers.

The pillows smelt like Merlin, his body was pleasantly sore in places that hadn’t been so in quite some time. Arthur used to have fairly regular tumbles, mostly with serving girls, but if he thought about it, he hadn’t had sex since Merlin came to Camelot. And that was at least 2 years ago.

“Tell ya what, my lady, you’d have to be the only lass cook actually likes.” The voice was closer now and Arthur peaked over the tangle of sheets to see a woman rifling through Merlin’s wardrobe. Her red hair hurt his eyes. Arthur groaned and rolled onto his stomach so that he could shove his face further into the pillows. The servant fell quiet now that Arthur was awake and Arthur secretly envied the way servants felt comfortable around Merlin but not him. With his eyes stubbornly closed, Arthur heard Merlin’s door click shut and then the bed dipped beside him.

Arthur cracked open one of his eyes to see Merlin looking down at him indulgently, hair loose and legs crossed and Arthur sighed, unwilling to face the day. Merlin pressed a kiss to his temple and smoothed the hair back from his face, “You snore.”

Arthur’s eyes flew open and he frowned up her, indignant, “I do not snore.”

Merlin grinned, “You do! I thought a pig had gotten into my chambers.”

Arthur twisted around and pushed himself into a sitting position, Merlin tracked his movements. Once seated against the headboard, Arthur crossed his arms and pouted at her, “So now I’m a pig?”

“No!” Merlin laughed, “I just said that you _sound_ like a pig.”

Arthur widened his eyes and gave her an incredulous look, reaching out to whack her arm playfully, she leant away from him, laughing as she did. When she righted herself, Arthur wrapped a hand around her bicep and pulled her down. Merlin fell into his side in a mess of hair and limbs so Arthur repositioned her, fingers snaking up to hook her black locks behind her ear. Merlin, with a hand against his chest, leant up to capture his lips in a kiss.

It was unhurried, the urgency from last night nowhere to be found and Arthur curved his hand around the back of her head. When they pulled apart Arthur searched her eyes and found love and devotion and Arthur was sure his own eyes reflected much the same. _I am ridiculously in love with this woman,_ Arthur thought, _and there is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep a smile on her face, so help anyone that hurts her._

\- -

Arthur thought his day couldn’t get any better, but then, after a whole year of searching, they found Morgana. She was dirty and scared but she was alive. Merlin was watching the patrol’s return from her window when she spotted Morgana and practically flew through the castle. When she reached the courtyard, Morgana spotted her and started running. They embraced at the base of the stairs, holding on for dear life and Merlin felt tears dampening her dress but she was crying too so she didn’t care. 

Morgana was ordered to bedrest as soon as she was in the castle so Merlin didn’t get to spend any time with her until the next morning. Uther was beside himself with joy. But then a servant arrived at her door and said the Lady Morgana requested her presence in her chambers. When she arrived, Morgana swamped her in another hug, “I was kept in a cell for an entire year, I ought to have gone mad.” 

“Gods, Morgana, how did you escape?”

“They moved me about a week ago, I don’t know why but I took my chance when they were distracted. When I saw Arthur, I couldn’t believe it.” Morgana teared up again so Merlin ushered her down onto the mattress and sat beside her.

“You’re safe now, I’m so sorry about what happened. I had feared that Morgause took you so that she could turn you against Camelot.” A shadow passed over Morgana’s face then and Merlin didn’t miss the iciness that froze her eyes, but it was gone as soon as it came and then Morgana was smiling again.

“As if she could. Camelot is my home, how could I turn against my friends?” 

\- - 

When Uther started hallucinating and yelling at things no one else could see, Merlin thought about that cold look Morgana gave her and wondered, yes, how could she turn against her friends? It was too convenient. Merlin began watching Morgana like a hawk and her sharp eyes found a lot of things she wished she hadn’t. Morgana, doting on Uther like she never had before. Morgana, smiling for the court but then adopting a look of hatred whenever she thought people weren’t looking, the way her smile would fall and twist into something dark when people turned their backs. It was disturbing and Merlin really hated the conclusions she drew. But there was no denying it, Morgana was no longer a friend to Camelot.

Council was called when, a couple of days later, a sentry guard was found bleeding to death on the floor, pushed from his post. With Uther incapacitated by his erratic episodes of psychosis, Arthur led the council, “Who could have done this?”

Gaius procured a thin dagger from his robes, the handle an intricate tangle of gold and it was a blade Merlin was very familiar with, she had one herself. Arthur examined the dagger with a frown, “That is the sigil of the Blood Guard.” Well, if she wasn’t sure before she definitely could be now. Morgause had to be the catalyst of Morgana’s shift in loyalty.

“Blood Guard?” Arthur probed.

“Warrior Priests sworn to protect the High Priestesses of the Old Religion.” Arthur’s gaze slid to Merlin.

“So you believe there is a traitor in Camelot?” Arthur concluded, and Merlin watched Morgana’s face twitch with guilt. But it was guilt at being caught, not guilt for being the traitor.

“I believe so, sire.” When Gaius then revealed that the sentry was still alive, Merlin was not surprised to see the flicker of enraged panic that flared in her cool eyes. With all the evidence stacking up, there was one last thing Merlin had to do before she could be sure about her suspicions. So, Merlin waited patiently behind the changing screen in Uther’s rooms, waiting for Morgana to retrieve her expired mandrake root. Merlin happened to know that Morgana’s magic was too weak for such magic. Sure enough, Morgana came strutting into the king’s chambers, reaching under the bed to snatch the mandrake root before vacating the room.

Merlin cast a spell of silence over herself as well as a glamour. With her hood up and her feet falling silently, it was easy to trail Morgana out of the castle, through the lower town and into the Darkling Woods. She paused in a dank clearing so Merlin hid behind a tree and waited. She didn’t have to wait long, for the oppressive feel of Morgause’s magic soon filled the area. Peering around the thick trunk, Merlin watched as Morgause, dressed in chainmail, strode across the clearing to embrace Morgana. Merlin’s heart broke. It would seem that revealing her magic to Morgana did nothing to prevent her betrayal. Arthur would be devastated. “How goes the battle for Uther’s mind?”

“When Cenred marches on Camelot, he will find a kingdom without a leader.” Morgana reported smugly. The mention of Cenred was interesting, Merlin knew that Camelot and Essetir had a very volatile relationship and if Cenred was declaring war, Merlin had work to do.

“Then finally, we are ready.”

“Not quiet, Merlin suspects me.” Well, apparently her sleuthing hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Has she told Arthur?”

“Not yet but she will.”

“Well then we must stop her.”

“How?” Morgana asked and Merlin took the opening.

“You won’t” She said loudly, gliding out from her hiding place and startling the two women. Merlin was surprised that Morgause hadn’t been able to sense her magic but she didn’t ponder on it. Merlin completely ignored Morgana and chose instead to address Morgause. “Why are you doing this?”

“Surely, you understand revenge? Uther has decimated our kind and he deserves nothing less than death. I had hoped Arthur would end his miserable life but that didn’t go as planned.”

“Arthur no longer shares Uther’s beliefs, he is a friend to magic and he will bring peace back to Albion, just as the prophecy predicted.”

“It is not enough! Uther cannot be allowed to continue his tyrannical rule. You’ll stay out of matters that do not concern you.”

“So you are against me?” Merlin asked. Morgana was looking between the two of them in confusion, clearly unsure about the exchange. Morgause thinned her mouth and stared coldly at Merlin, whose all-black attire did wonders for making her look threatening, especially if she erased the warmth from her eyes.

“I suppose we are.” 

“Then you will suffer the consequence of your betrayal.”

“Betrayal? We are doing what you could not!”

“You have betrayed destiny and your divergence from prophecy will be your downfall.” Merlin looked coldly between Morgana and Morgause, addressing both of them. “If the two of you chose to challenge me, you with both face my retribution and I can promise you, I will afford you no mercy.”

Merlin was pleased to see that Morgana looked scared, Morgause’s fear was more subtle but it was present nonetheless. “Camelot and her people are under my protection, it would be very unwise to make an enemy of me.”

With that out in the open, Merlin left the clearing with a dramatic swish of her cloak. She had no doubt that Morgause would continue her war on Camelot, but Merlin hoped that Morgana would see sense. She really couldn’t be bothered walking, so Merlin teleported to the other side of the forest and called the dragon. “To what do I owe the pleasure, young witch?”

“Camelot is in danger. I should have listened to you, Morgana has fallen prey to Morgause and I never should have trusted her.”

“You did what you felt was right, and that shows great courage, but trust is a double-edged sword.”

“I thought…I thought she would use magic for good.”

“Your determination to see goodness in people will be your undoing.” Merlin sighed, it was nothing she hadn’t heard before. “I fear that your paths are now joined forever. She is the darkness to your light, the hatred to your love.”

“Then the battle for Camelot has begun.”

“Indeed, Emrys, but the dawning of Albion is also on the horizon. The enemies you will face are strong, even for your great powers.”

“Arthur knows about my magic.” She blurted, and Kilgharrah blinked down at her.

“And he accepts you?” Merlin nodded, “Then take heed, young witch, for your path to victory lies with his. Have faith in your destiny.”

\- -

The next morning, Leon returned from a patrol with news of Cenred’s army. Arthur convened the council and Merlin was bitterly aware of Morgana’s presence. When she had the audacity to smirk, Merlin let her magic crackle dangerous in the air and was pleased to she the fright that crept into Morgana’s eyes and her nervous swallow. 

“I estimate they will reach the city within two days.” Leon said.

“Under whose banner do they march?”

“Cenred, sire, we knew he was amassing an army.”

“How many men?”

“20,000, maybe more.”

“I fear news of the king’s illness has spread beyond our borders.” Gaius said. “Cenred sees an opportunity.”

“Then we must find a way to appease him.” Said Leon. Arthur shook his head.

“That’s not what my father would do, he wouldn’t bow to our enemies.” Arthur lowered himself into the king’s chair. “There is only one course of action we can take. We must prepare the city for siege.”

Arthur had an unhappy downturn to his mouth and Merlin hated Morgana for putting it there. It was a long day and Merlin couldn’t do much to help. She did her best to organise the make-shift hospital, helping the servants stock up on bandages and arrange the sick beds. She made a point of visiting Uther but he didn’t acknowledge her, his eyes still had their haunted shadow so she settled from draping a thick blanket over his prone form and leaving him to rest.

It wasn’t until long after dinner that Merlin finally had time to see Arthur. She found him hunched over his desk with one hand knotted through his hair and the other flicking his quill anxiously. Merlin walked behind him and startled massaging his shoulders. At her touch, he leant back in his chair and sighed. Tired eyes drooped closed and he groaned appreciatively as her deft fingers smoothed the knots of tension from his muscles. Merlin dropped a kiss to his forehead and he sighed again.

“You did well in there today, I mean it.” Arthur huffed, not really believing her but he could hear the conviction in her voice. “You should have more faith in yourself, the people are glad you’ve taken charge.”

“I’ve committed them to a siege, there’s going to be casualties.”

“I trust you, Arthur, more than any man. Worry is not a wise counsel.” Merlin stopped working at his shoulders and Arthur was pleased to feel his muscles had relaxed under her coaxing. She stepped beside him and gazed down, Arthur grabbed her hand and pressed a tender kiss to her knuckles. “Forget everything else, you have to follow what you believe is right.” 

He smoothed a thumb over the soft skin of her hand and smiled up at her, “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Merlin.”

She ducked down and pressed a kiss to his temple. 

“We’ll be okay, Arthur. Cenred does not stand a chance against Camelot.” Merlin looked out the window, out into the dark forest where Cenred’s army was surely camping. There was no way Morgause was breaching the walls of Arthur’s castle, Merlin would make sure of that. 

\- - 

Merlin stood to the right of Arthur, on the battlements where a harsh gale was messing their hair. Uncertainty was rolling off of him in thick waves so Merlin wove her fingers through his gloved ones and squeezed. Arthur squeezed back.

Below them, Camelot’s army filled the courtyard and they were all staring up at the couple and every knight shared the same sentiment. That they looked like a strong king and queen, ready to defend their kingdom together, strong and united. Beyond the walls, Cenred’s army was arriving.

The battle was merciless, flaming catapults destroyed most of their frontline defence but Arthur’s knights stood their ground and fought valiantly. Arthur had pretty much ordered her to stay inside so Merlin had donned her armour and strode into battle instead. There were ladders against the castle walls but a swift burst of magic sent the mercenaries toppling to the ground. Merlin was walking to the west side of the castle when she saw Uther running into the fray, so she followed him instead.

Arthur was appalled to see his ailed father running to the battle full pelt with a sword in his hand. Uther only got a few wild swings in before Arthur was dragging him back and when he caught sight of her, she smile innocently. With Arthur gone, the knights were overpowered by Cenred’s men so he called a reluctant retreat. When Arthur had pulled Uther a safe distance away, Merlin made sure the knights were clear before she raised a hand and incanted, “Forbearnan!”

A great wall of fire roared to life, Cenred’s soldiers, caught by surprise, didn’t move quick enough and a great number of them were consumed by her flames. Merlin raced back into the citadel, but not before she established a chain of fire blockades. They were tall and hot and they needed no fuel to burn, Cenred’s men were only left with two channels into the citadel and Merlin was sure the knights could defend the smaller territory.

When she reached the courtyard, Arthur was passing his father off to a couple of servants. He spotted her through the smoke that had gathered and jogged to meet her, “Didn’t I tell you to stay inside?”

“Yeah,” She grinned, “But if I did that then you’d be swarmed by enemy soldiers. You’re welcome for the fire blocks by the way.”

“I can hardly see through this ungodly smoke.”

“There’s just no pleasing you sometimes.” Arthur was about to say something when Merlin staggered back, clutching at her chest as if she’d been struck. Arthur grabbed an arm to steady her.

“Are you okay?”

“You didn’t feel that?” Arthur shook his head, brows furrowed. “I just felt a huge shockwave of magic.”

Merlin blinked through the smoke and squinted, trying to make out the unnatural thin figure that was stalking toward them. It got closer and Merlin was horrified to see a living skeleton marching up behind Arthur. She pointed over his shoulder and Arthur turned around, shoulder’s tensing at the sight.

“Go, Arthur, I’ll deal with this. You need to focus on the human army, let me handle the magic one.”

Arthur seemed reluctant and even after she shoved at him, he still resisted. The skeleton swung its sword toward Arthur so Merlin flung out her arm, eyes burning molten gold and the skeleton went flying, clattering into a useless pile of bones. Arthur was staring at her with raised eyebrows and Merlin shooed him away impatiently, “Go on!”

Arthur, satisfied with her capabilities, sprinted back to the frontline. Merlin released her magic into the ground, seeking out the source of the skeletons. Her magic seeped down through the earth, winding between the foundational stones until they reached the crypts below the castle. Merlin started running. She delved into the belly of the castle and found Morgana standing guard over the Rowan Staff. Merlin circled her angrily, her magic flared from her splayed fingers, golden sparks scattering over the floor but Morgana continued to shield the staff with her body. “You should leave now while you still can.”

“Do not think you can intimidate me, Morgana.”

“I don’t need to, you’re too soft to kill me,” She mocked, “I’m your friend.”

“You are no friend of mine. If harming you is what it takes to save Camelot then I won’t hesitate.”

Morgana laughed, “But you won’t kill me.”

Merlin smiled coldly and moved closer, “I will if I have to.”

Morgana pulled a sword from her waist and swung it, but a swift flash of gold had the sword freezing midair and Merlin didn’t even flinch. Another burst of power had the sword disintegrating to dust and Morgana took a frightened step back. 

Merlin raised her hands, “Feoll bu brande!” The stone walls cracked and large chunks of masonry rained down on them. A shied protected Merlin but she offered no shelter to Morgana, who screamed and fell to the ground when a stone hit her head. Merlin ignored her prone body and started rebuilding the walls even as she approached the staff. 

She held a hand out to the glowing crystal embedded in the wood and began unravelling the magic, “Néadhæs ealdgewytht drýcræfte, unlucan þá aldor geedcucoda an edcierr se gástgeníðla lye foldræst. Sinnan ic bebodraeden.”

The staff yielded to her magic and she felt the spell unraveling, like a chastised child, the power rushed back into the wood. The crystal in the middle stopped glowing and Merlin sighed in relief. Necromancy magic was notoriously difficult to undo but the Rowan Staff was an ancient artefact of the Old Religion so it didn’t fight her magic. Merlin dislodged the base from the stone for and started to leave. She spared a glance back at Morgana’s prone form and felt a pang of old affection and remorse. Merlin shook her head and kept walking, she couldn’t allow the memory of the old Morgana to interfere with the threat of the new one. 

With the staff safely locked in her chambers, Merlin strode out over the battlement to assess the situation. The undead army were nowhere to be seen and Camelot’s soldiers were reclaiming lost ground and pushing back the enemy. From her vantage point, Merlin could see the small figures of Morgause and Cenred out on the hills and she had no doubt Morgause had spotted her too.

Cenred withdrew what remained of his army and left with his tail between his legs. There were casualties on their side and Merlin was mournful of their loses, she only hope that the families left behind where given adequate compensation and the next few days would be spent attending formal funerals and honouring their dead. Merlin stayed in the hospital for as long as she could, only leaving when Gaius ordered her up to her room to get some sleep.

In her chambers, Merlin magicked her armour off and summoned her nightgown and went to flop down on the bed. When she did, something dug uncomfortably into her back. Groaning, she sat back up and turned around to glare at the offending object. The Rowan Staff rolled toward the dip in the bed, knocking against her leg apologetically. 

It would be safer if she harnessed its power to her own, that way no one else could wield the staff. She picked it up and trounced over to the cupboard beside her vanity. It was tall and narrow and had an intricate carving of the Tree of Life on the front. Merlin snorted at the irony.

She held a hand over the lock, “Aliesan oþ mec ánlépig.”

Merlin was too tired to notice the person slipping into her room. The cupboard unlocked with a pleasant click and when Merlin moved her hand to the left, the door followed and opened itself. Merlin took a deep breath and gathered her magic, it was slow to rise up, tired from the powerful spell used earlier. Gripping the staff with both hands, Merlin closed her eyes and began to link the magic. “Ic séowan mín bealucræft to séo fyrngestréon Roewan Stæf. Befaestan mín se ánwald bebéodend.”

Merlin felt the ancient magic of the staff intertwining with her own, the silver tendrils knotting together with her golden ones. When the spell was completed, she could feel the staff's loyalty and knew that it would not obey the magic of another. She sighed and slumped her shoulders, exhausted by the powerful magic. She lifted the staff and placed it into the cupboard, happy to have it out of her hands.

“What are you doing?”

Merlin jumped and pressed a hand against her racing heart. She looked over her shoulder and found Arthur staring at her, suspiciously. He strode over and looked into the cupboard. Merlin followed his gaze and reached out to stroked the notched wood, “This is the Rowan Staff, it was carved from the Tree of Life that grows at the centre of the Isle of the Blessed. Someone used it today to summon the dead.”

“Who?”

“The staff is imbued with ancient magic, only the High Priestesses can wield it. Seeing as I’m one of the only two High Priestesses left, the only other person that has enough to power to use such a weapon is Morgause.”

“Figures…what were you doing when I walked in?”

“Performing a spell that binds the staff’s power to my own. I’m now the only person that can command the Rowan Staff, nobody else can use it as long as I live.” Arthur moved closer and reached out to touch it but he snatched his hand back when the staff zapped him. “It will not be held by another.”

Arthur nodded, impressed, before he looked back into the cupboard. He pointed at the other object being kept there, “What about this one?”

“That’s a Sidhe staff. I killed it’s last owner so now it is bound to me.” The two staffs stood proudly, side by side.

“So, you just have two vessels of magic laying around in your room?” Arthur questioned dubiously. Merlin closed the cupboard door and the lock clicked loudly as the enchantment slid back into place.

“I’d hardly call this ‘laying around’, I’ve enchanted the lock in a way that makes it impossible for anyone to open it, only my magic will release the door.”

“Right,” Arthur took in the faint bruising beneath her eyes and dipped down to kiss the tip of her nose quickly. He cleared his throat, “Thank you, for today.” Merlin smiled and got up on her tiptoes to give him a proper kiss. It quickly turned into something a bit more heated.

\- -

Months passed, and after the unmentionable Goblin Incident, Arthur dragged Merlin out of the castle for some fresh air. The ride was much appreciated and even Ronin had whinnied excitedly when they left the stables. Arthur yabbered on about this and that, Merlin interjected every now and then. They rode for a couple of hours before happening upon a quaint country village. “You know what you need after a long ride?”

“Sleep?” She quipped.

Arthur ignored her and answered his own question. "A nice, cold tankard of mead.” Merlin would prefer spiced wine, actually, but she followed Arthur into the rural town nonetheless. People didn’t spare them a glance as they rode in and Merlin was glad for it, she really couldn’t be bothered with any fuss today. Spying a water trough and a horse station, they dismounted and tied their respective mounts onto the wooden holding. Ronin leaned over to nip Hengroen’s ear affectionately. Arthur was fiddling with the reins when he said, “No better place to measure the mood of your people than the local tavern.”

Merlin nodded absently and moved around to his side, where Arthur pointed at her, then the tavern. “In there, I’m just a simple peasant like everyone else.”

They started walking, “Simple part’s right.” She muttered.

“What?”

“I said the sun is very bright.” Arthur squinted up at the sky and nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, it is.” Merlin bit back a laugh.

Upon entry, the first thing Merlin noticed was the stench of alcohol, the air was stale with it. Raucous bouts of laughter bounced around the small venue and Merlin got one too many lecherous looks as they wove through the patrons toward an empty table. A plump woman appeared with empty cups and a wet rag, wiping their table down as she spoke, “Afternoon, what’ll it be?”

“Two tankards of mean, please.” Arthur chirped and the woman swept away to the bar. Merlin people-watched while they waited. The place was mostly occupied by old, grubby men with grime on their faces and chipped yellow teeth. The door swung open and the room fell into tense silence. A scar-faced man prowled into the tavern with an arrogant gleam in his eyes and a slimy smirk on his face. He knocked the tray of a passing waitress and anger flared up in Merlin, she glanced across the table to find Arthur equally annoyed.

“Afternoon, Mary, business is looking good.” He said with a slick voice, smiling patronisingly to show off his own set of dirty teeth. The woman that took their order wrung her hands behind the bar and eyed scar-face apprehensively.

“We’ve had our better days.”

“I don’t suppose you’d begrudge me my share then.” The man stalked to the bar and leant forward onto the wooden top. Mary tossed some coins at him, they dropped wetly onto the mead-laden bar. Scar-face counted them, sliding them through the moisture quickly, clearly dissatisfied by the amount, “And the rest?”

Mary didn’t say anything and Scar-face whipped forward to grip the neckline of her dress, dagger flying up to her throat and Arthur got to his feet, “Take your hands off her.” He strode around the table until he was nose to nose with Scar-face, and angry clench to his jaw and Merlin sighed to herself. They really couldn’t go anywhere without attracting trouble. A squabble ensued and Arthur won, much to the furious embarrassment of Scar-face. He whistled and a band of thugs came shouldering into the tavern with weapons bared. Merlin sighed again and took a long swig of her drink. Then, a striking man was strutting over to them with a cocky arch to his eyebrow.

“You two have got yourselves in a bit of a pickle, haven’t you?” He continued his saunter until he was between Arthur and Scar-face and Merlin thought she detected a slight Irish lilt to his voice. He had shiny hair.

“You should get out of here while you still have the chance.” Arthur stated firmly, not missing the curious look Merlin gave the new addition. He wasn’t a fan of the lingering way the man was looking at her either. She was Arthur’s.

“You’re probably right.” He said casually, Arthur felt annoyance prickling at the back of his neck. The man took a relaxed swing from his tankard before turning to Scar-face, handing him the cup, and then belting him square in the nose. It triggered a full blown bar fight and Merlin watched in amazement as the patrons started whacking each other with stools and plates and anything else they could grab. Even the waitresses were clobbering people around the head with ceramic jugs. Merlin laughed in exhilaration and grabbed a stack of plates and started flinging them at the thugs.

“Merlin, behind you!” She turned around and ducked in time to avoid decapitation via barstool. Merlin ran off, confident that Arthur could handle himself but her path was blocked by a pair of beefy men. With a flick of her hand, a bench seat was sliding across the floor and knocking their legs out from under them.

Merlin slid under the bar to avoid being tackled by another man, grabbing a nearby jug and cracking it over his head. The man from early approached the bar with someone in a headlock and a swift punch to the stomach sent his opponent to the floor. The man straightened up and extended a hand toward her, “Pass the jug?”

Merlin reached around and grabbed the laden jug, handing it off the man with sparkling brown eyes. He lifted it up and took a swig, pausing to punch an incoming opponent in the face, mead sloshing out in the process. He turned back to face her with a swish of his hair. “What do they call you then?”

“Merlin.” The man smiled brightly at her before reaching over to grab her hand and press a kiss against her knuckles. Merlin laughed delightedly at the gesture.

“Gwaine, pleasure to meet you.” Another man came barreling towards them and Gwaine smashed the jug across his head, mead flying through the air excitedly. “Such a waste, huh?” He gave her another grin before he disappeared back into the melee and Merlin watched him go in bewildered fascination. At some point the fight took a turn for the worst and then they were travelling back to Camelot with Gwaine slumped over the front of Arthur’s horse. He insisted only because it would mean the man wouldn’t be on Merlin’s horse. In the safety of the physicians chambers, Arthur found himself fighting against vicious bouts of jealously whenever Merlin touched the unconscious man. Despite that, Arthur owed him his life, so he told Gaius that he was to be given anything he needs.

\- - 

“What am I doing in this bed?”

“You were wounded, Arthur wanted to make sure you were treated by his physician.”

“Arthur?”

“Prince Arthur, you saved his life.” Gwaine’s face twisted into an unhappy scowl as he pushed himself into an upright position.

“If I’d known who he was, I probably wouldn’t have. He’s a noble.”

“I’m a noble.”

“I figured” Gwaine gestured at her attire and she blushed, it certainly wasn’t a peasants dress. Merlin leant against the door frame and watched him stuff a couple of blackberries into his gob. “But I’m not one to ignore a damsel in distress, especially when they’re as gorgeous as you.”

Merlin blushed, laughed, and shook her head. Gwaine seemed like an alright bloke, if not a little bit promiscuous...alright, a lot bit promiscuous. Either way, Merlin saw the potential for a brilliant friendship.

“Sure, but Arthur’s a good man.” She vouched.

“If you say so.” Gwaine gave her a dubious look before chomping down another berry. Merlin eyed him curiously.

“Why did you help us?”

“You’re chances looked between slim and none,” He grinned, raised his arms behind his head and flexed his biceps. “I guess I liked the look of those odds.”

Merlin shook her head with a laugh, Gwaine was certainly amusing. She left the physicians quarters so he could recover in peace, opting to hole up in her own chambers. She flicked open to the first empty page and picked her quill out of the ink pot. When she had arrived in Camelot, Merlin decided that she would write a book. A detailed recount of every magical threat that has graced the kingdom since her arrival. She figured it might come in handy one day.Merlin left her chambers after lunch to stretch her legs, opting for a stroll through the markets. 

She would visit Arthur, but he’s been incessantly rabbiting on about this _melee_ and Merlin was bored to tears by it. It was the dumbest thing she’d ever heard, a bunch of entitled knights prancing about on horses and whacking each other with blunt swords. Apparently, it was the ‘ultimate test of strength and courage’ but it sounded ridiculous to her. Once outside, she breath in the fresh air and smiled at people in passing. When she found her way to the hustle and bustle of the markets, she was surprised to see Gwaine walking about. Well, limping, but he was doing a good job of acting like it wasn’t bothering him. He saw her through the herd and approached, nicking a daisy from a woman’s flower basket on his way.

“I believe this belongs to you.” He presented it with a flourish.

“I don’t think so, it’s not my colour.” She tried walking, but Gwaine blocked her path.

“Ah, let us see.” Merlin tried to hide a smile as he slipped the bloom behind her ear, arched an eyebrow at his cheesy grin. She snorted out a laugh.

“I bet you’ve got a whole bunch of those to hand out.” She laughed, he was the biggest charmer she’d ever met. And if Merlin was honest with herself, if she wasn’t committed to Arthur she might just be tempted by this smooth talker. Gwaine looked affronted by the accusation, holding his hands up for inspection.

“No, yours is the only one.” Merlin huffed out another laugh, he certainly was a ladies man. Gwaine watched her for a moment before pressing his mouth together with a defeated smile.

“This isn’t working, is it?”

“No, but I like that you tried, and that you know when to give up.” Merlin started walking away, patting his shoulder as she passed and she was unaware of his curious brown eyes watching her back.

\- - 

“I have a present for you.”

Arthur squinted at her suspiciously, “Why is there a flower in your hair?”

“Oh,” She brushed her fingers against it, “Gwaine put it there.” Arthur tried to squash the tidal wave of jealously by clenching his jaw and flexing his fingers over the desk. Merlin slinked forward and dropped a parchment in front of him. Arthur snatched it up, jealously joined by anger as he read it.

“He drank all this?”

“Well…”

“14 quarts of mead, 3 flagons of wine, 5 quarts of cider and 4 dozen pickled eggs.”

“You said he should be given anything he needs.”

“ _4 dozen pickled eggs_!?” Merlin grinned innocently and slipped out of his chambers. Arthur crumpled the paper and wished it was Gwaine’s face.

\- -

Gaius wrapped a thin bandage around her finger, tutting as he did so. Merlin winced as the course linen chaffed against the cut, “To the eye, the sword appeared blunt, but when I touched it…”

“You were lucky,” Merlin looked up at the voice to see Gwaine, rolling up his sleeve as he walked, “I’ve seen those blades in action. They’re forged using sorcery.”

“What would they want with such a blade?” Gaius wondered.

“I think they mean to kill Arthur in the melee.” 

“In front of all those people?” 

“It’s the perfect cover.” Gwaine said with a tight smile. They couldn’t just outright accuse Sir Oswald of sorcery and foul play, not without proof. Hearsay meant nothing to Uther, not when nobles were involved. So, when night fell, Merlin snuck into Sir Oswald’s chambers and found a crystal around his neck. When she looked into it, she saw Scar-face from the tavern. A punishing grip enclosed around her wrist as the man woke, glaring daggers at her. Rising from the bed, he kept her in his grasp and Merlin tried to calm the thundering of her heart. “What are you doing in here, girl?”

Merlin swallowed and it attracted the man’s eyes downwards. His thumb trailed up her throat and over her mouth, forcing a thumb inside and pressing down uncomfortably on her tongue. Her magic rose up through her body, before she could cast, someone else spoke, “Is there a problem here.”

The man removed his thumb from her mouth at the sight of Gwaine but didn’t release her wrist. “No. Now, leave.” 

Gwaine ignored him and looked at her instead, “You alright, Merlin?” She shook her head.

“I thought I told you to leave.” The man let go of her and stepped menacingly toward Gwaine, who had an angry set to his jaw and dark eyes. He looked nothing like the friendly bloke Merlin had come to know.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Gwaine said as he stepped protectively in front of Merlin.

“How dare you speak to a knight like that!” The man procured a sword and Gwaine unsheathed one from his waist, Merlin hadn’t even noticed he brought one. Merlin had watched Arthur train often enough to recognise the posture of a man that was confident in a sword. Gwaine was ready to strike. The faux knight struck first but with an expert twirl of his wrist, Gwaine disarmed him and took the sword for himself. It was an impressive display. The clang of swords attracted attention and then Leon was striding into the room with a couple of guards at his back.

Later, Gwaine was brought before the king in shackles, accused of attacking a knight ‘unprovoked’, which Merlin happened to know was utter rubbish. When Uther questioned Gwaine, he didn’t deny the claims but he didn’t affirm them either, “I stepped in to protect Merlin.” Arthur’s gaze snapped over to her, she looked shaken. He felt another hot wave of jealousy roll through him. Merlin was his to protect, not Gwaine’s. Very begrudgingly, he supposed he was thankful that she was unharmed. He clenched his jaw, fists white-knuckled behind his back.

“I tried to talk to him,” The fake knight prefaced, “He was like a man possessed. Tried to kill me.”

Gwaine shot up, “He’s a liar!”

The guards were quick to restrain him and Uther jabbed a vicious finger in Gwaine’s face, “I will have your tongue! How dare you speak to a knight that way!” Merlin really hated Uther and his biases. It was disgusting how a seal of nobility meant you could get away with murder around here. Arthur watched the fury swirl around in Merlin’s bright blue eyes and was surprised when she strode forward to stand by Gwaine’s side, “Nobility is defined by what you do, not by who you are.”

Arthur saw the telltale tick of Uther’s brow and spoke up to sooth the tempers in the room, “Father, I understand how this must look, it’s an embarrassing situation. Sir Oswald is a dear friend and our guest here in Camelot, but Gwaine is my guest here too. He may not be of noble birth but I can vouch that he has a noble heart.”

“How can you say that when you see the way he behaves?”

“Gwaine risked his life to save mine. I beg you, please, if a knight’s word is his bond then I give you my word that Gwaine is a good man. He deserves clemency.” Arthur might have been a jealous man, but he was also a fair one. He owed Gwaine his life.

\- -

Merlin and Gwaine walked side by side through the halls, Gwaine had a bag slung over his shoulder. He’d been banished but it was better than death. “I’m sorry.” She said.

“Don’t be, I never stay in one place for very long. People get sick of me too quickly.”

“I didn’t.” She smiled gently at him.

“After the trouble I caused?”

Merlin shrugged and laughed, “You livened the place up.”

“Yeah, well, there you go.”

“You did a brave thing, I’m grateful.”

Gwaine scoffed, “Hell of a lot of good it did me.” Merlin grabbed him arm and drew to a stop, looking at him imploringly. 

“I know Arthur, he’s not like Uther. You saved his life, I’m sure one day he’ll repay you.”

“He tried to speak up for me.”

“Arthur’s fair, he’s loyal, he’ll be a great king. I know he will.” 

“Ah,” Gwaine said with an amused smile, eyes sparkling with knowledge. “At least now I know why you turned me down.”

\- -

She and Gwen sat together in the stands overlooking the sea of armoured men. She’d spot Arthur anywhere but she couldn’t tell which ones were Sir Oswald and Sir Ethan. Or rather, the thugs from the tavern. The melee began and the air was filled with clanging and cheering and Merlin tracked Arthur like a hawk. Knights fell from their horses left, right and centre and the crowded booed when someone tore Arthur from his saddle. Eventually it dwindled down to three people and it was Arthur against the enchanted blades.

Until it wasn’t, another knight rose from the ground and came to Arthur’s aid. Merlin couldn’t for the life of her figure out who it was but then the knight twirled his wrist and disarmed his opponent. There’s only one person she knows who can do that. When Gwaine revealed himself, it was to the shock of Arthur and all of Camelot. Apparently saving Arthur’s life meant nothing to Uther because he yelled for the guards and they rushed forward to seize Gwaine. Later, he and Merlin waited outside the king’s chambers until Arthur came out and delivered the bad news. Gwaine’s banishment remained and he was to leave Camelot by nightfall. “I’m sorry, Gwaine. My father’s wrong, if it were up to me-”

“I know, you don’t need to explain yourself.”

Merlin looked away from Arthur and asked, “Where will you go?”

“I was thinking Mercia, you get a lot more ale for you money,” Merlin raised an eyebrow, “I’m joking!” 

Merlin gave him sad look, “Why don’t you tell you king of your noble birth? He’ll grant you a pardon and you can stay in Camelot.” She pleaded and across from them, the corner of Arthur’s eye twitched.

“I could never serve under a man like Uther.”

“You helped Arthur.”

“He stood up for me, he is indeed a noble man.”

“I knew he would, why don’t you stay?” Gwaine said nothing. “You and Arthur fought well together.”

“Then maybe one day we will again.” Gwaine pulled her into a crushing embrace and she squeezed back. Arthur crossed his arms impatiently and tried burning hole through the back of Gwaine’s head. When he walked off, Arthur waited until he vanished around the corner before snatching Merlin up.

He dragged her closer and drew her into a kiss, which she smiled into. Out of breath, Arthur pulled away and found her eyes shining in amusement, “Were you jealous?”

“No.” He lied, dropping another kiss to her forehead. “Can’t I kiss you for no reason?”

“Mm, not when you’ve been in a strop over me giving another man attention.”

“I was not in a _strop_ ,” Arthur protested, “I just think your attention is better spent on me and not men with stupid hair.”

“Uh huh,” Arthur pressed another kiss to her lips, “You’re such a child.”

Arthur ignored the jibe in favour of kissing her again but she spun out of his hold and giggled, a mischievous glint in her eye. He step forward, she stepped back. Merlin took off in a fit of laughter and Arthur gave chase. The servants they passed shook their heads fondly at the sight of their prince chasing her through the castle. Arthur could have caught up easily but he enjoyed the chase so he let her stay ahead, though she was oddly fast and nimble. 

Merlin turned sharply and started up the stairs, Arthur took them three at a time and almost got her, but then she was whipping down the hallway and swinging into the open door of his chambers. Trapped and breathless, Merlin stopped in the middle of the room and panted. Arthur closed the door behind him and locked it before stalking towards her. She made to move away from him but Arthur lunged forward and captured her. With his hands around her waist, he picked her up and Merlin squealed when his fingers dug into her sides, ticklish. 

Her legs hooked around Arthur’s hips and she leant down to kiss him, Arthur dominated it while he walked them over to a wall. Merlin gasped into his mouth when her back pressed against the cold stone. Overcome with the need to assert his claim, Arthur grabbed a handful of hair and yanked her head back before sucking a bruise onto her pale neck, marking what was his. Merlin moaned as he attacked the sensitive skin of her throat and Arthur felt his pants fall around his ankles. Magic definitely made sex a lot easier. He adjusted Merlin’s body until his cock was aligned with her pussy. When the tip of his cock met her entrance, he found her dripping wet and he slid into her in one smooth stroke.

Merlin made a long noise, loud enough that it was almost a shout. Being filled so fully was arousing beyond all belief and when Arthur started ramming into her, her eyes rolled back and fluttered shut. Arthur was breathing heavily into her shoulder, peppering faint kisses to her skin as he thrust deep into her. Merlin was tight and wet around him and each thrust drew out loud moans. Her fingers tangled through his hair, toes curling as Arthur hit that spot over and over again. 

“Mine.” He growled into her neck and Merlin loved the sound of it. Arthur’s cock was splitting her in two, the feeling of his hard length slamming into her was too much and she felt her climax building rapidly. 

“Yours.” She assured. She loved the way he took her body, dominating her in every way and claiming her as his. It was ridiculously hot. Her submission unleashed something wild in Arthur and his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, the other one pulling at her hair harshly but Merlin loved it. He lifted her higher and the new angle had him pushing in deeper than before and it only took two more thrusts for Merlin to fall apart. Her thighs quivered, orgasm washing over her in blissful waves as Arthur kept thrusting.

Her cunt pulsed around Arthur’s hard length and he push up sharply, chasing his own release. Merlin was boneless in his hold, nothing more than a sheath for his cock and she wouldn’t have it any other way. It didn’t take long before Arthur was spilling into her, seed spreading through her passage and filling her with warmth.

Arthur panted and rested his forehead against hers, a blissed out smile on his face, satisfied that he’d reminded her who it was she belonged to. When Arthur pulled out, Merlin felt his come sliding out of her empty hole. With a lazy flicker of gold, Merlin cleaned both of them up asArthur put her down gently, dress falling back into place around her legs. A quick look at the window told him it was already dusk so he walked to the door, poked his head out and told a passing servant to bring Lady Merlin’s dinner to his chambers. The serving girl blushed as she curtseyed.

\- - 

A month later, Lord Godwyn and Princess Elena arrived in Camelot. Elena was a clumsy girl, could barely walk without tripping and stumbling and she had a very brazen way of speaking. Merlin thought she was wonderful. After Godwyn’s party had been formally received, Merlin was walking around the castle with Arthur, who was unusually quiet. “What is it, Arthur? You seemed troubled.”

“My, uh, my father had some surprising news for me, he expects me to marry Princess Elena.”

“Marry?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to.”

“It’s okay.” She said. Arthur stopped walking and placed a finger under her chin, angling her head up to him.

“Hey, I’m not going to abandon you, okay?” Merlin nodded with a small smile, but she didn’t really believe him. Rationally, she’d known this day was bound to come. Prince’s married for the good of the kingdom, not for love.

\- - 

It wasn’t until a couple of days had passed that Merlin saw Arthur again. He’d spent every waking minute with Elena. Merlin wasn’t jealous, not really, she was just sad. Sad that Arthur was being forced into a marriage he didn’t want. She nocked softly on his door and waited for him to open it. “Merlin.” He looked tired, unhappy. Merlin hated it.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t just turn up like this.” Arthur shook his head and beckoned her inside before shutting the door. He moved away until he was leaning against one of the window frames, Merlin followed but kept a small distance between them. “Everyone is talking about your marriage to Elena.”

Arthur’s shoulders slumped, defeated, and crossed his arms. Merlin continued, “I know you said that it isn’t what you wanted, but, I also know that you can’t always have what you want.” Her voice grew quiet. “I know that very well.”

“Is what I want really that insane?” He asked and his eyes were pleading for an answer she couldn’t give him. Merlin’s heart broke to see tears in his eyes.

“Yes, in anyone else’s eyes, you are to marry for the good of the kingdom.”

“Then I’m happy to be insane,” He laughed mirthlessly. “I’m sure it’s better than being miserable.”

“I don’t think she will make you miserable, she has a good heart.” It was true, Elena may have her quirks but she would make an outstanding queen. Merlin swallowed past the lump in her throat.

“As do you.”

“We both know it can’t be.” Arthur choked back tears.

“If I marry her, what will you do?” His voice was wrecked and it was unbearable to see such turmoil in a face that should be creased with laughter and happiness. 

“I will watch you grow into the king that Camelot deserves.” Merlin leant up and placed a light kiss onto Arthur’s cheek and wipes away the lone tear that falls. 

\- - 

As it turns out, Elena had been possessed by a changeling in an attempt to put a Sidhe Queen on the throne of Camelot. The wedding was set for noon so she only had a couple of hours to banish the Sidhe fairy and destroy it. Grunhilda was the trickiest part, hardly left Elena’s side for more than five minutes at a time. It was up to Gaius to use his…charm, to distracted the pixie-woman long enough for Merlin to slip into Elena’s chambers. Sidhe staff at the ready, Merlin incanted the spell and Elena fell back onto the bed and started convulsing. Merlin worried she’d done something wrong at first but then the seizures stopped and an angry blue light flew out of her mouth. Merlin aimed, her eyes flashed, and then a bolt of blue lightening was obliterating the Sidhe.

\- - 

“So, I’m still a single man.” Arthur said, standing a couple of stairs below her. 

“Indeed.” She flashed a teasing smile. “I don’t think you deserved her, actually, she’s really very lovely.”

Arthur hummed and Merlin was pleased to see light had returned to his eyes and chased away his misery. He folded his arms behind his band and quirked a smile, “Well, I had hoped to have forsaken her for one equally as lovely.” He grinned up at her. “Who knows? Maybe even more so.”

“I do not know of such a person.” 

“Me neither, but I guess only time will tell.” They shared a secret smile. If anything, this experience had only reaffirmed what Arthur felt in his heart. There was only one woman he wanted to marry and she had black hair and bright blue eyes. Arthur vowed to himself that one day, Merlin would walk the halls as a queen.

\- -

_A blue eye, colder than ice. There are tears gathered on the waterline._

_The blue whirls into gold, so bright the whites are lost to it._

_There’s a woman on her knees, she’s screaming._

_A different woman, dressed in black._

_The stones are red with her blood._

_Her faces blurs into view._

Morgana wakes with a scream.

\- -

“I am trying to prepare for one of the most important moments in my life.” Merlin dragged her eyes away from her book and looked at Arthur. His hands were clasped together in front of his face, elbows resting against the desk. Merlin smiled apologetically and he nodded once before turning back to whatever it was he was reading. Merlin hiccuped again and Arthur threw his hands up dramatically, leaning back into his chair as he gave up on getting anything done.

Merlin uncrossed her legs, placed her book against the pillows, and slid off the bed. She walked the short distance to his desk and picked up a couple of the parchments. Arthur exhaled forcibly. “All these maps look the same.”

“Well done, Merlin.” He drawled, “Do you know why?”

“Enlighten me.”

“Because hardly anyone’s ever been there.”

Merlin tilted her head and scrutinised the maps some more, “Couldn’t you have chosen something a bit easier?”

“I’m meant to be proving my worth to the people,” He enunciated, “A quick trip to the lower town to collect a bundle of herbs probably won’t cut it.”

Merlin narrowed her eyes at the patronising tone, “The Perilous Lands don’t have herbs from what I hear. Surely, you take some men with you, they’re not called ‘perilous’ for no reason.”

“You really don’t get it do you?” Arthur leant forward on the desk again, elbows braced while he started to gesture around and speak like she was a particularly slow child, “The task must be completed _alone_ and _unaided_.” He reached forward and took the maps out of her hand, placing them down onto the desk passive aggressively like the child that he was. “That’s how it’s been for hundreds of years and it’s not about to change, now, if you don’t mind, I have some important preparation to do.”

Merlin dipped into a mocking curtsey and gave Arthur a condescending smile. Sometimes, she forgot what a gigantic arse he could be. Merlin turned and left the room, but not before she let her magic have a little bit of fun. Just before she walked through the door, she heard parchments fluttering to the floor. 

“Merlin!” Her laughter echoed down the hallway.

\- - 

Arthur was set to leave that morning and Merlin waited outside his chambers. When he opened his door, he was in full armour and ready to go. Arthur smiled warmly at her, “I’ll be careful.” Merlin nodded and let her mouth curve into a smile of her own, her eyes dropped to his lips. Arthur noticed and dipped to give her a chaste kiss. When he straightened up, Merlin noticed that something was off. The air was charged with magic and her eyes locked onto the bracelet around his wrist.

Arthur brought it up for inspection, “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Merlin brushed a finger over the orange stone and felt it’s vindictive power, magnetic. She frowned.

“It was a gift from Morgana.” Arthur said. Merlin forced herself to smile as she pulled her hand back. Later, when they were seeing Arthur off, Merlin watched Morgana and was unsurprised to find cool indifference on her face. As soon as Arthur was out of sight Merlin took a brisk walk to see Gaius. They searched through every volume of every book about stones and crystals and but they found nothing. “You’re sure it was enchanted?”

“There was magic there, I could feel it.” Merlin flipped some pages impatiently. “Arthur’s in danger.”

“I’m not sure I know where else to look, Merlin.” 

She snapped the book closed and pushed it away, frustrated. “There has to be something!”

“We’ve examined every stone imaginable.” Gaius reasoned. Merlin stood up and went to another shelving unit, scanning the spines. “Unless…” Gaius joined her and bent over, running his fingers along the books quickly until he snatched out a small, thick handbook. 

Merlin watched him flick through the yellowed pages, “Gaius!” She jabbed her finger into the book, pointing at the illustration within, “That’s it!”

“Then it’s not a stone, Merlin, it’s an Eye of the Phoenix.”

“Phoenix? As in the firebird?”

“Precisely. It’s eye burns with a fire that consumes the life force of anybody it comes into contact with.” Merlin’s eyes widened, “The Eye will draw energy from him, if it’s worn for too long, Arthur will die.”

“Then I have to go after him.”

“This is not a task to be undertaken lightly, you’ll need help.”

\- - 

Merlin poked her head through the door and had to duck to avoid the pottery that was flying through the air. It smashed against the door and Merlin quickly slipped inside, pressing her back up against the door. A survey of the room told her she’d arrived in the middle of a bar fight. A man was being dragged face-down across the tabletops, food and candles and tankards toppling to the floor in his wake. The man came to a stop and Merlin approached him with a gleeful smile, “Hello, Gwaine.”

Gwaine looked up from the table, eyes widening comically when he found her face. He grinned from ear to ear, eyes sparkling as he scrambled back to his feet, “Merlin!”

He dragged her into an excited embrace, leaving a friendly arm around her should when he pulled away. A bald, irate looking man was glaring dagger’s at Gwaine. Gwaine smiled at him. Then they were running through the small village market with peeved thugs hot on their tail and Merlin couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up. Never a dull moment with Gwaine around. They yelled useless apologies at the people they bumped into and the stall they knocked over.

Their evasive manoeuvres gave them the chance to catch their breath behind a bread stall. Both of them peaked over the fresh loaves, like children playing hide and seek, watching as the enraged thugs tried to find them. Which they did, and then they were running again but Merlin couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. The wind whipped through her hair as she followed Gwaine through a tunnel, up some stairs and out onto a gantry. They leant against the banister, panting, “Remind me again what you’re doing here?”

“Arthur’s in trouble, I need your help.” 

Gwaine tossed his hands about and gave her a long-suffering looked, “What kind of trouble?” He asked between big huffs of breath. Below them, the bald headed ruffian pointed up at them and signalled his henchmen. They shot off again, pelting across the gantry as Merlin breathlessly answered his question, “He’s gone to the Perilous Lands.”

Gwaine looked over his shoulder at her in disbelief, “You serious?”

“Yeah.” They kept running, hopping over the miscellaneous objects that were strewn about and Merlin loved the way Gwaine was responding to the news like Arthur was a wayward child that always got into trouble. Which wasn’t too far off the truth, really. Legs burning, they were forced to stop when they reached the end of the building, both swivelling their heads to watch their pursuers stalk forward. Gwaine hustled her up onto the railing and pointed down to the horse station, where Ronin and someone else’s horse stood. “All right, all right, go for the horses.” 

“You have got to be joking.” Gwaine shrugged and gave her a shit-eating grin and Merlin groaned, not at all keen to jump. Not that she got a choice because Gwaine was tossing her over the edge and she was landing in a haystack. She surfaced, spitting out chucks of hay as she scrambled out of the mound and over to Ronin, who swished his tail at her benevolently. Merlin turned around at Gwaine’s bark of laughter and found him hurtling towards the other horse. He cackled manically as they galloped out of the village. Once they were a safe distance away, the horses slowed into a relaxed plod. It was a nice day and the birds overhead provided a relaxing ambiance. “Why were those men so angry?”

“It’s always the way with gambling.” Gwaine smiled nonchalantly. “You make a man a fool, he calls you a thief.” Merlin pressed her lips together to hide a smile, but her dimples gave it away. “How’d you find me?” He asked.

“It wasn’t easy, I’ve been in almost every tavern in Engard.” 

“So have I.” He said conspiratorially, like it was a state secret. Merlin laughed jovially and Gwaine cracked a playful grin. They spent the ride catching up, which entailed Merlin cavilling about Arthur, and Gwaine regaling her with scandalous stories of mischief and mayhem. That was one thing she admired about him, that no matter what, he was always in good spirits. He was one of those people that could joke about anything without being abrasive and Merlin was glad to call him a friend.

They rode for a good portion of the day, reaching the border when the sun was low in the sky. The horses drew to a halt and Merlin looked out at the arid landscape before them. “This is it, on the other side of the forest lie the Perilous Lands.” Said Gwaine.

“Doesn’t look too friendly.” 

“That’s because it’s not, believe me, it’s wretched.”

“How would you know? You’ve never been there.”

“I’ve travelled to many places, Merlin.”

“Not the Perilous Lands, I know that.”

“Why?”

“There aren’t any taverns.” She grinned over at him mischievously and was pleased when Gwaine burst into a hearty chuckle, mirth creasing his face.

“I told you it was wretched.”

\- - 

Tethering their horses, the two of them crept toward the narrow bridge. Gwaine gestured wildly in an odd dance of hand signals before slinking off around some boulders. She didn’t understand them but she was pretty sure the firm downward point meant she was meant to stay put. She walked forward, high stepping over rocks and roots until she was at the mouth of the bridge. A stout little man appeared from the shadows and Merlin blinked stupidly at him. He smiled at her. “So, Magic has arrived.”

“What?” 

The dwarf ambled closer, raising his hands in a gesture of peace, “There is nothing to be afraid of. Your presence is essential if Arthur it to succeed on his quest.”

“How do you know about Arthur?” Merlin narrowed her eyes, “Who are you?”

The dwarf smiled again and gestured behind him, “I’m Grettir, keeper of the bridge. I only wish to see the Fisher King’s lands restored and prosperity reign again. Until your mission is complete, this cannot happen.”

“It’s not my mission, it’s Arthur’s.”

“It’s no accident that Arthur chose this path, or that you chose to follow him.” Merlin tilted her head, calculating, but before she could say anything else, Gwaine bounced into the area, breaking the mysterious climate with his heavy breathing. “Ah, finally, Strength has arrived. The trio is complete."

Gwaine drew his sword and moved protectively in front of Merlin, pointing the blade down at the dwarf. Merlin placed a calming hand on his arm “Who’s he?”

Grettir’s eyes burned gold and Gwaine’s sword was replaced by a bouquet of white lilies. He twisted them around, frowning, still holding them aloft like a sword. Merlin smiled at the harmless magic. “I mean no harm to either of you, and I’d thank you to mean no harm in return.”

“Where’s my sword?”

“It will return to you once you reach the other side.” Grettir moved to the right and bid them passage onto his bridge. Gwaine frowned at his flowers again, looking put upon, and glance at Merlin, who shrugged. He strode past the dwarf in a huff, boots falling loudly onto the rickety old wood. Merlin followed him, her own boots falling much quieter. When she turned to smile graciously at the strange little man, he was gone. 

\- - 

Gwaine’s flowers morphed back into sharp steel the second his foot left the bridge and he cheered happily. Together, they traipsed the arid land until the sun vanished below the horizon, taking the scorching heat with it. With a campsite established, Gwaine got to work on a fire. No hard task when the land was barren and blanketed by dead plant matter.

Once a plentiful stack of sticks had been cultivated, Merlin raised her hand without thinking, and a jolly little fire crackled to life. Gwaine got very still and Merlin remembered who she was with. With her hand still poised over the fire, she turned her head very slowly and tried to gauge his reaction. Gwaine’s shoulder relaxed and he leant forward to warm his hands. He turned his head when Merlin continued to stare and frowned at her, “What?” He asked with a shrug, “It’s cold.”

Merlin snorted and let her tension abate. She tossed a decrepit tangle of plant roots into the fire, which snapped it up and spat out some embers in thanks. There was no judgement on Gwaine’s face, no aversion to her use of magic. Just acceptance and curiosity. “Magic, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Does Arthur know?”

“Yes. Gaius and Gwen, too. Oh, and a nice bloke called Lance. Noble, chivalrous, complete opposite of you, really.” She joked.

Gwaine laughed and clutched at his chest, “You wound me, Merlin.” She laughed, because Gwaine was indeed noble and gallant and while he was ridiculously flirtatious, he still showed honour and respect. In the distance, something screeched menacingly and both of them gazed out into the darkness. “What was that?”

“Pheasant.” Gwaine concluded. He sounded so sincere that Merlin had to stare at him with a raised eyebrow.

“A pheasant?” She quizzed sarcastically.

“A very big one.” Gwaine still looked serious and it took every shred of self-control not to erupt into a fit of laughter. Instead, she hummed and tried to make herself look equally as grave.

“You can turn back if you want.” She offered and Gwaine laughed through his nose.

“I’m not scared of pheasants.” 

“I wouldn’t imagine you are, but seriously, why are you doing this?”

“To help a friend.” Gwaine said, matter-of-fact, as he looked into the fire.

“Arthur’s lucky to have us.” 

“Not Arthur.” He turned to her and for a moment they just stared at each other. Merlin saw his earnest brown eyes and smiled at him. Understanding passed between them and the dynamic of their relationship shifted into something more meaningful.

“I’d do the same for you.”

“I’d hope so, you’re the only friend I’ve got” Merlin shuffled closer and rested her head on his shoulder while Gwaine’s arm came to rest over her shoulders. There was love growing between them, not romantic, but the kind of love one shares with siblings. Like a protective older brother that would beat the crap out of anyone who hurt his sister. Merlin was the first person to see him for what he is and Gwaine would do anything to protect that.

\- - 

Once the parched mess of dead forest came to an end, they found themselves traipsing across an ever more desolate stretch of rocky terrain. The grasses were brown and crunchy and the skeletal remains of wildlife were dotted amongst the rocks. A harsh wind whipped around them as they reached the crest of a jagged hill. Ahead of them, poised atop a rock formation, was the Fisher King’s castle, tall and imposing. Two lone creatures were circling the tower. “What’s that in the sky? They’re not birds.”

“I’ve never seen creatures like that.” Merlin replied. She frowned and raked her brain for answer, watching as the winged beasts started to swoop at the ground. They looked like dragons, but they couldn’t be because Kilgharrah said he was the only one.

“Looks like they’re hunting something.” Gwaine said. Something glinted on the ground and Merlin zeroed in on it.

“What was that?” She thought aloud, eyes fixated on the gleaming refraction.

“A sword.” 

“It’s Arthur!” She yelled, hastily trying to make her way down the steep cliff. By the time they’d made it down into the valley, Arthur had already gone inside the castle. They followed him without hesitation but stopped cautiously when one of the creatures flew past them and into the tower. 

“I should have known.”

“What are they?” Merlin asked impatiently.

“Wyverns - distant cousins of the dragon.” They started running again, but now, Merlin felt a lot more confident. If these wyverns shared dragon blood then there’s a high possibility that Merlin could command them. “They’re creatures of magic, so be careful.”

“Trust me, I can handle some flying lizards.” She said with a devious smile. Inside, they dashed through the halls and twisted stairwells in search of Arthur. Which wasn’t that hard, they just had to follow the roars. The noises grew louder and louder as they climbed a narrow staircase. Merlin skidded to a halt, boots scraping against the dusty wooden floor as she came face to face with the two wyverns, which seemed a whole lot bigger up close. Arthur was sprawled on the floor, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Merlin moved protectively in front of him, an action that had the wyverns growling angrily at her, with beady red eyes and fangs bared, they screeched. She stood her ground and searched for the part of her soul that she shared with the dragons, and commanded: “Nun de gedei s’eikein kai emois epe’essin hepesthai!” 

The wyverns averted their red eyes to the floor, heads bowed submissively. Backing away from her power, they hissed in frustration as they stalked out of the room. “Ha!” Gwaine exclaimed, grinning stupidly at her, “Incredible!”

Merlin knelt down beside Arthur and tore the blasted bracelet from his wrist and pocketing it. Arthur’s head lolled toward her, fuzzy vision clearly rapidly as his energy returned to him. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Why can you never just say thanks?”

Arthur rolled around until he was sitting up against the wall, giving her an incredulous look. “Thanks?! What, for completely ruining the quest?” 

Merlin scoffed, “Well it’s a good job I was here, otherwise you’d be wyvern fodder by now. I don’t see you ordering dragons around!”

“How many times do I have to get it through your thick skull? I am supposed to be doing this alone!”

“Christ, I don’t know why I bother! Should’ve let the damn things eat you, you insufferable git. At least then I wouldn’t have to sit here and-“

“Children, children,” Gwaine interrupted, sounding far too amused. Arthur’s outraged eyes turned to the other man and made his mood impossibly worse. 

“Great, this just gets better and better, are Gwen and Morgana here, too? Are we going to have a surprise party?!”

Merlin and Gwaine snickered down at him in a futile attempt of smothering their laughter. Arthur glared at the both of them and was only irked further by their apparent amusement. He certainly couldn’t find anything funny about this situation. Arthur stood up and stomped past them, muttering furiously about tridents and quests and maddening women. Merlin just couldn’t help herself. “Do you want us to help you? Or do you want to do this _alone_?” 

Gwaine winced as Arthur thundered her name, infuriated beyond belief. Merlin promptly burst into a bout of cackles, because irritating Arthur was the best thing in the world. Nevertheless, they followed Arthur up another staircase. “Do you know where the trident is?” Merlin probed, fully aware that she was riling him up.

“If I did, there wouldn’t be a problem, would there?” He asked sarcastically.

“Any clues you can give us?”

From her place behind him, Merlin jaw Arthur clench his jaw and had to suppress a smile, cheeks dimpling with the effort. “This is a quest, _Mer_ lin, not a treasure hunt.”

“Well, it is sort of-“

_“Merlin!”_

The trio reached a landing and she paused as the boys continues up the next flight. She turned around and examined the archway, curtained with cobwebs. “Look at this,” She peered inside as the boys rejoined her speedily. “Looks like a throne room.”

“If the trident’s going to be anywhere…” Arthur trailed off as Merlin walked forward. Her foot sunk into one of the stones and something crunched above her. Gwaine, being the closest, shoves her forward and yells, “Watch out!”, as she’s pushed. 

A stone slab slots into place, blocking off the throne room, “Merlin!” Arthur tries pushing with all his might but it doesn’t budge. He presses an ear against it and listens, there's nothing except the panicked beating of his heart. “Merlin! Are you all right?”

Nothing. “There’s got to be a way to open this.” Gwaine says and Arthur withholds the urge to throttle him. If it weren’t for _Gwaine_ then he wouldn’t have been separated from her in the first place. Of all people for Merlin to bring along, why’d it have to be captain philanderer?

Either way, they both start looking by sliding their hands over the stones. It took longer than he would've liked, but Arthur’s fingers knocked over a loose stone. 

“Here!” Gwaine came over, “Now, I’m sure if we just reach in here…” When Arthur slid the stone out, it crunched wetly and revealed a disturbing plethora of roaches and millipedes and crickets crawling about. The choir of legs scuttling against the stone made for an unpleasant sound, it grated his ears. “…We’ll be able to find something to relate the door.” He grimaced down at the infested cavity.

“Go on then, don’t be such a princess.” Gwaine thwacked his back and Arthur glowered at him, not at all amused by the nickname or the gleeful expression. “It’s your quest, after all.”

\- - 

Inside, the sound of stone crumbling drew Merlin’s attention away from the Fisher King momentarily, “That’ll be-“

“Your friends, Courage and Strength, I know. Without their help, you would not be here.”

“What is it you want?”

The king sighed, jostling the blanket of spider silk around him. “I want an end to my suffering, Emrys. I have been waiting all thee years for the arrival of a new time, the time of the Once and Future King.”

“I’ve heard those words before.”

“And you will hear them again, for that time is dawning, and mine can finally come to an end.” Merlin waited for him to continue. “Arthur thinks the prize is the trident, but the real prize is something far greater.”

He procures an elaborate vial from thin air and offers it up to her. “Water…from the Lake of Avalon. Albion’s time of need is near, and in that dark hour, you must be strong for you alone can save her. Your powers are great but you will need help, that is what I am giving you. When all seems lost, this will show you the way.”

Merlin’s fingers curled around the vial, “Thank you.”

“I have given you a gift, now you must give me one in return.” She’s confused by the request, but after a minute, reaches for the bracelet and slips it over his wrist, letting the Eye of the Phoenix do its job. 

\- -

“This is the border.” Gwaine observes, “By Uther’s decree I can go no further.”

“I’m sorry, Gwaine.” Says Merlin.

“There’s nothing I can do to change that.” Arthur defends.

Merlin looks at Arthur, and then back to Gwaine, “Maybe one day.”

“Yeah, when Camelot gets itself a half-decent king.”

“Careful, he is my father.”

“Well, you can’t have everything huh?” He joke, Merlin laughs through her nose before asking; “Where will you go this time?”

Gwaine makes a show of thinking about it, licking a finger and chucking it up to see which way the wind will blow him. “I think I’ll ride south.”

“You can’t keep living like that.” She says fondly, Arthur has to squeeze his fists around the reins to contain a jealous outburst because Merlin was showing affection to someone that wasn’t him _again_.

“Yeah, but it’s fun trying.” Arthur nudges his horse forward so that he doesn’t have to listen to them, but if he’s honest, he’s just bad at goodbyes. When Ronin sides up to Hengroen, Arthur leans over to kiss Merlin, who rolls her eyes at the possessiveness but smiles into it anyway.

\- - 

_The throne room doors opening, sunlight, courtiers and knights, a red carpet._

_Merlin is walking toward the throne dias in a beautiful dress, she looks older._

_Arthur’s there, she kneels before him, he’s holding a crown, they’re smiling._

_“By the sacred laws vested in me, I crown you, Merlin, Queen of Camelot.”_

_She takes his hand, rises, they sit in their thrones, they’re happy._

Morgana wakes with a gasp, gripping at her sheets fearfully. What the hell was that? Disorientated and confused, she grabs at the healing bracelet around her wrist. Fingering the intricate design with a frown, she slips out of bed. Troubled and unable to rest, Morgana gazed vacantly out of her window until the sun came up.

\- - 

“I received your message.” Morgause greets, embracing happily with her sister. “Tell me about these dreams that are so troubling to you.”

Morgana was plagued by exhaustion. Unsettled and tormented, Morgana was unsurprised to feel a shallow gathering of weary tears. “They show a ceremony in Camelot, it’s Merlin, she sits besides Arthur on a throne.” Morgana recalls the latent visions that tormented her. “She’s crowned queen. I see the same thing night after night.”

“There are some dreams that are so powerful your healing bracelet will not stop them,” Morgause reached down to draw Morgana’s wrist up, stroking the bracelet contemplatively. “It is a prophecy.”

“How can that be? She hasn’t a royal pedigree. Uther would never allow Arthur to marry her.”

“There are many futures, sister, some are shrouded in mist and others are clear as glass. But your gift is powerful and this vision cannot be ignored. You cannot allow Merlin to take your rightful place upon the throne.” Morgause paused, eyes troubled. “Whatever relationship exists between Arthur and Merlin, you must destroy it.”

\- - 

Since Merlin knew of her treachery, Morgana opted to target Arthur instead. He still holds her in high esteem, so why would he take her exhorts as anything other than him to be happy? She opens his door and forces a pleasant smile. “Arthur, am I disturbing you?”

“Morgana. No, come in. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I saw you at training today. I was worried about you, you weren’t yourself.”

Morgana watched him closely as his eyes slid to the table. “I’m just a bit tired.” 

“Really? I thought the reason you were so distracted had something to do with the fact that Merlin was watching.”

“I haven't got a clue what your talking about.”

“Come on, Arthur.” It was so easy to slip back into the role of teasing older sister. She knew Arthur regards her as such. If only he knew how true it was. 

“Why can’t you admit you have feelings for her? A blind man could see it.” It was almost the same thing she’d said to him last year, when he’d run off the rescue Merlin from Hengist. That all felt so long ago.

Arthur leant back in his seat, “Is it really that obvious?”

“It’s only so obvious to me because…I know Merlin also has feelings for you.” An easy lie to tell, especially when Arthur still thought she and Merlin were the closest of friends.

“So she’s said something, then?”

Morgana smiled sweetly. “She speaks of you all the time.” Another lie. 

“What did she say?” Morgana almost scowled at the unveiled emotion he showed, her cheeks burned with the effort of maintaining a smile.

“You’re already arrogant enough. I will flatter you no further.” A calculated pause. “It must be hard…to be around her so frequently but never able to show how you feel.”

“Indeed, I have such feelings for her and yet I know nothing can ever come of them.”

“If it is Merlin you desire, why do you deny yourself?” Morgana asked, initiating her devious plan.

“Because my father would have me marry for the good of the kingdom.”

“Uther knows nothing a love,” She said, playing into his aversions for Uther. “You are the future king.” Appealing to his ego. “You must set your own rules. Besides, he doesn’t have to find out.”

Arthur said nothing and Morgana smiled cunningly. She had him. Arthur was pathetically malleable, it was so easy to persuade him. What a weak king he would be. “You should spend some time with Merlin, I know she’d like that.”

\- - 

When Merlin approached the clearing, it was to the sight of Arthur checking his appearance in the reflection of a silver plate. His back was turned so she indulged herself by watching, until she coughed subtly and Arthur spun around, fumbling endearingly with the platter. He looked dashing in a dark red tunic and brown hunting vest. Arthur grinned stupidly at the sight of her, breathtaking in her pink dress, it reminded him of the orchids that grew in the royal gardens. “Merlin, you look…”

No words seemed good enough, but she smiled anyway and made her way across the stepping stones that protruded helpfully from the languid stream. Arthur grabbed her waist as she hopped onto land again, drawing her into the air and spinning her around. Arthur presented the picnic with a dramatic flourish and took her hand, guiding her onto the furs and blankets he’d laid out. Well, Morris really, but that’s irrelevant. Arthur arranged some bread, cheese, and fruits onto a plate before offering it to her.

“It feels different, doesn’t it? Being away from Camelot?” She bit appreciatively into the cheese as Arthur filled a goblet with spiced wine.

“I love Camelot more than I can say, but when I’m there, sometimes I feel I can hardly breathe. Everyone expects so much of me.” Merlin accepted a drink from him and sipped, humming. “Being here with you, I can be myself.”

“I’m glad, I like you being yourself.”

“Sometimes I dream of leaving Camelot.”

“Really?” Arthur gave her a lopsided smile and dropped a couple of grapes into his mouth. “Where would you go?”

“I don’t know,” He answered honestly. “Somewhere where nobody knows who I am. I’d get some land and become a farmer.”

Merlin snorted at the notion, “Interesting, maybe it would humble you and you wouldn’t be such a supercilious prat.” She laughed some more, “I can hardly see you toiling away in the fields all day.”

Arthur pushed her lightly and shook his head with a grin. It was nice seeing him so relaxed. With the sun peeking through the trees and wildflowers perfuming the air, they ate lunch and talked. Of their childhood, of their hopes for the future, and everything in between. The sun moseyed through the sky for a couple of hours. By now, they’d reclined back onto the pillows, full and content. “We should be heading back to Camelot soon.”

“We can stay a while longer.” Said Arthur, not wanting peace to end. “I don’t know when we’ll have the chance to do this again.”

“Perhaps when you become a farmer, we can be together more often.” She joked, Arthur rewarded her with a carefree laugh, eyes bright and blue.

“That’s just a dream. I fear I will never leave Camelot.” Arthur's gaze slid to something over her shoulder. “Stay still.”

Merlin didn’t move. “Is it bandits?” She asked, but Arthur didn’t answer. Then he grabbed one of his discarded gloves and whipped it over her shoulder, slapping loudly against the pillow and Merlin made a noise halfway between a laugh and a scream.

“A wasp.” Arthur declares, looking pleased as he leant back on the pillow with his hands behind his head. Merlin giggled quietly, leaning down for a kiss. It very rapidly moved from a fond peck to a passionate slide of tongues. Engrossed in the kiss, they didn’t realise they had company until too late.

Arthur noticed first, the loud clatter of hooves breaking through the love-induce haze. They broke apart with a gasp and Arthur was horrified to see Uther and Morgana staring down at them. The look of disappointment and outrage on his father’s face weighed heavily on Arthur’s shoulders.

\- - 

It wasn’t enough and Morgana snarled viciously as she left Arthur’s chambers. At first she’d been delighted with Merlin’s banishment, and of Arthur’s plans to leave with her. With Arthur gone, Uther would have no choice but to name her sole heir to the throne. Her victory was short lived. _One day we will return to Camelot, together, and Merlin will take her place in the throne beside me._

She had to do more and a cunning plan started to take shape in her mind. It was deceitful and underhanded, but it would get rid of Merlin for good. Morgana’s lips twisted into a cruel smirk at the thought of Merlin burning.

\- -

The guards forced her down, but they were nowhere near as forceful as they should’ve been. They hadn’t even bound her hands tightly, it would be easy to free herself but she didn’t. Getting the guards punished was no way to repay their kindness. Merlin raised her head and Uther displayed a poultice. She recognised the markings, it was a novice job but it exuded no magic. It was a harmless pouch of herbs. “Do you recognise it?”

“I’ve never seen it before in my life.” 

“Really?” Uther asked, dripping with hatred and doubt. His grey eyes cold. “I believe you planted it in Arthur’s chambers, to enchant him.” Uther had been waiting for something like this. He loathed Merlin like no other, for striping away Arthur’s trust and respect from him. This woman has stolen his son’s esteem and now, Arthur holds _her_ in higher regard than his own father. Uther couldn’t get rid of her for no reason, not without jeopardising his own kingship, he could not risk Arthur leading a mutiny. But now, he could rid himself of this woman in accordance with the laws.

“That’s not true.” Merlin maintained.

Uther leant forward menacingly in his throne. “Why else would Arthur fall for you?”

“I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand.” Uther’s expression crackled with ire and he took great satisfaction in backhanding her, grim pleasure bubbling at her reddening cheek. 

“My Lord!” Morgana’s voice grated against Merlin’s ears. “Merlin has been a loyal and trusted friend.” While it sounded convincing Merlin was starting to feel as though Morgana had something to do with all of this.

“I have no doubt she’s feigned loyalty while using her position to get close to my son.”

The doors opened and everyone turned to see Arthur striding in angrily, “What is the meaning of this?” He demanded. He looked at Merlin and flexed his jaw at the flare of colour on her cheek. 

Uther met him halfway and help up the herb sack. “This poultice was found under your pillow, some kind of love charm. You’re under it’s spell.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“What would you know?” Uther patronised.

“I know how I feel, I’m not enchanted.” Irritation swirled around Arthur’s eyes and there was a stubborn set to his shoulders. The other people in the room observed the interaction closely.

“So can you tell me how it came to be in your room?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t believe Merlin put it there.”

“Until its spell is broken, I cannot take anything you say as the truth.” The guards present frowned, expressions shadowed by helmets. They too, did not believe that Merlin was responsible. She had always been kind to the guards, acknowledging them when no one else did. 

“Her father was a Dragonlord, it is a craft akin to magic. I wouldn’t be surprised if he consorted with sorcerers.” 

Merlin felt like the breath had been punched out of her but it didn’t quell the defensive rage that rallied around her heart. “My father was a good and innocent man, and you’ve no right to speak ill of him. Not after all the pain you have caused.”

“You will watch your tongue! You share his blood, it is no wonder you practice sorcery!”

“Father, you have to see reason. Merlin has done nothing wrong.”

“She has been found guilty of using magic and enchantments. She will be burned at the stake.” Merlin went numb.

“No.” Arthur said, anguished.

“Restrain him!” The guards moved hesitantly to grab Arthur. They did not agree with Uther’s policy. Arthur had become a greater man since he met Merlin, they feared that if he was to lose her, he would become just as cold as his father.

“You can’t do this!”

“I have all the evidence I need.” 

Down on the ground, Merlin felt a tear run down her cheek. Though her own fate was forfeit, it pained her more to see Arthur so distraught. “I’m begging you! We will leave Camelot and never return. I relinquish my entitlement to the throne!”

The room fell eerily silent. Uther stalked forward. “My son would never do that. It is proof beyond doubt that you are enchanted.”

“I will never forgive you for this.” Arthur vowed.

“She will die. The enchantment will be broken. You’ll see I was right.” Uther looked down at Merlin in disgust and gestured for more guards to step forward. “Take her away.”

“No!” Arthur yelled as Merlin was gently lifted from the ground. “Merlin! No!”

She was pulled away and Arthur twisted wildly, freeing himself from the guards and surging toward Merlin. He snatched her away and recognised the loose hold of the guards for what it was; reluctance. Arthur kissed her but it was short lived because there were hands ripping them apart. All Arthur could do was yell as she was taken away from him. The last thing Merlin saw, was Morgana’s smile.

\- - 

Merlin watched them build her pyre through the tiny grate and sighed. Bleakly, she turned away and slid down the wall. A guard tapped on the bars. Simon, if Merlin remembered correctly. One of the newer guards. To him, Merlin was a pillar of Camelot, he had been upset to learn of her fate. The older guards had told him how atrocious Prince Arthur used to be and he could scarcely believe it. The prince he knew was generous and fair and not at all rude. The other guards said it was all because of the Lady Merlin. “I thought you might be hungry.” 

Merlin stood up and went to the bars, looking down at the hunk of bread in his hand. She smiled kindly at him and shook her head. “I can’t even think of eating. How is Arthur?”

“He’s upset, my lady, but my friends are posted outside his chambers and they overheard him, he will do everything he can to convince the king of your innocence.”

Simon watched her shoulders slump and wished he could do more. They both knew that Uther won’t change his mind. “When I’m gone, I just hope that he doesn’t make the same mistake his father did. Grief is a terrible thing.”

“You can’t give up hope, my lady, there’s still time.”

“I appreciate your optimism but I’m afraid my time is up.” Another guard walked past and Simon stepped back from the bars. The older man paused in front of the cell, Merlin smiled at him, “Gerard.” She acknowledged. The guard nodded at her and unlocked the door to let someone in.

“Gaius!”

“Oh, my dear girl.” The embraced tightly and Merlin watched the guards leave. “Do you have any idea who planted the poultice?”

“Morgana. I’m sure of it.”

Gaius tutted. “Uther will never believe that she’s responsible.”

“If we can’t expose the true sorcerer…then we must invent one.” Gaius’s eyebrow started creeping up but Merlin grew hopeful. If she could pull this off then Uther would have no choice but to release her. “What if a sorcerer was caught planting an identical poultice in Arthur’s chambers?”

“Merlin…who would be stupid enough to get caught doing such a thing?”

“Me.” Merlin started pacing the small cell, the ends of her dress sweeping the straw across the stones. “If I disguise myself, it won’t matter if I’m caught. In fact, I’ll leave a glamour of myself in here! That way, no one can possibly accuse me of being the sorcerer.”

“No matter how you disguise yourself, I fear Arthur will recognise you.”

Merlin lowered her voice dramatically, “Not if I’m 80 years old.”

“An ageing spell? Time magic is notoriously difficult and unpredictable, if the spell doesn’t hold, you’ll be exposed.”

“If anyone can pull this off, it’s me.” Gaius gave her look, she brushed it off. Magic had never failed her in the past. “Can you make a poultice identical to the one found in Arthur’s chambers?”

“I believe so.”

“Okay, bring it to me in an hours time.”

\- - 

When Gaius dropped the poultice off, he gave her the eyebrow again and tried to dissuade her from performing such powerful magic. Merlin shooed him off and made sure the coast was clear before she begun. “Besmiðian mín sunscín, belócian sec biliþe.”

The air in front of her began to shimmer, colourful particles undulating until she saw herself. Glamour Merlin walked over to the thin mattress and laid down, pretending to sleep. Perfect, that way the guards wouldn’t try and talk to her.

“Miht geoguðfeorh dægmælscéawere, beþecce me. Séo aldor gebiraþ ásláwian be ríceiu.” Merlin felt the passage of time warp around her, body changing. When the strong wave of magic subsided, Merlin felt creaky and doddery. Looking down, her hands were wrinkled and marred with sun spots. Her dress had changed too, wispy grey hair hung around her face. She ached, all over, but she had a job to do so she ambled over to the door and unlocked it. The strain on her magic was evident, maintaining two spells of this magnitude was no small feat. 

Merlin set off, moving through the castle as quickly as she could in her old age. It might’ve taken a quarter hour until she heard Arthur’s voice in the distance. She stopped and peeked around the corner. He was talking to some guards. When she waddled past the corridor, Merlin walked loudly to get his attention. As she continued toward his chambers, he was audibly following him. Once inside, Merlin hobbled over to the bed and started fiddling with his pillows animatedly. 

“Show yourself.” The tip of a sword pressed into her back. “Who are you?”

“I am…The Dolma!” Merlin put on snarl a and turned around. “Who else would I be?”

Arthur looked bewildered. “Is it you who planted the poultice in my bed?”

Merlin splayed her arms, “You have caught me red-handed. I’m impressed, it would seem you’re not as stupid as they say.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Are you deaf?” Merlin asked. “Maybe you are dim, then. Hardly surprising."

Arthur frowned open-mouthed at her and pointed with his sword. “Have we met?”

They regarded each other, “No, I don’t believe so. I’d never forget a face.”

“Your eyes,” Arthur pointed again, “We’ve met somewhere before.”

“Me? No!” Arthur continued to scrutinise her so Merlin sent a helmet flying. It conked against Arthur’s head with a hollow clang. His face went slack as he fell onto the bed, but still lucid enough to yell for the guards.

\- - 

Merlin was walking back to her chambers after being pardoned when a group of guards paced passed. A day since she was released and Uther still had the castle on high alert, searching madly for the escaped old woman. A hand wrapped around her arm and she gasped, surprised, but smiled when she saw Arthur. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Now my father believes that my feelings for you are a result of an enchantment. If he’s to see any sign that isn’t the case, he’ll banish you from Camelot.”

“And are your feelings for me the result of an enchantment?” She asked with a teasing lilt.

“Well,” Arthur said nonchalantly, “We both know that’s a lie. But I think it would be safer for you if we let others continue to believe it.”

Merlin nodded in agreement. Neither of them knew that the entire castle had bets on when they’d get married, it was Camelot’s best kept secret. “What you said to your father…would you have really given up your place on the throne for me?”

“I still would.” 

“Your place is here in Camelot.”

“My place is with you.”

“This isn’t just about us,” Merlin prefaced. “You must stay for the sake of your people. You will be a great king, and then you can change these ridiculous customs.”

Arthur held her hand, rubbing the back with his thumb. “I promise you that when I am king, things will be different. We can be together.”

“Then I will count the days.” Arthur pressed a tender kiss to her lips, wishing that the traditions didn’t exist.

\- - 

Camelot had a mellow few months. By mellow, of course, Uther was poisoned by a manticore, Gaius rekindled an old flame with a charming lady called Alice, and a young boy, Gilli, tried to kill Uther during Camelot’s famed tournament. So not mellow, per say, but nothing catastrophic happened. So Merlin was dismayed to learn of the resurfacing of the Cup of Life. Merlin had not seen the cup since Arthur was bitten by the questing beast, it had vanished after Nimueh’s death. Somehow, it had come into the possession of the Druids. Merlin thought they were the best possible keepers of the cup seeing as they wouldn’t use such power for their own nefarious means.

Obviously, it was wonderful that Leon was still alive, but seeing as the cup was discussed in front of Morgana, Morgause would soon learn of its return. Uther, paranoid of Cenred obtaining the cup, deemed it imperative that Arthur retrieve it first. And he was do to so alone. That’s how Arthur found himself in Merlin’s chambers, “You will be ready by sunrise, won’t you, Merlin?”

“Obviously.” She shoved a spare change of riding gear into her bag. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Well, I can tell you it’ll be dangerous.”

“Great.”

“We’ll be travelling through bandit-infested lands.”

“Terrific, then where?”

“I can’t tell you that. If I did, I’d have to kill you. Immediately and without hesitation.” Merlin scoffed.

“I’d like to see you try.” She packed a blanket. “We’re looking for the cup-“ Arthur tried to interrupt. “-so I’m guessing we’re travelling to Cenred’s lands? That is where the Druids are, after all.”

“How-“

“Honestly, Arthur, I’m not daft. I just wanted to see if you’d tell me or not.” Merlin flipped her bag closed and secured the clasp. “Besides, if you’re going after a magical artefact, you’re going to need me.”

At dawn, they rode for the Forest of Ascetir and Merlin spent a large majority of that time complaining. Arthur tuned most of them out, well aware that she could talk herself to death. However, he did agree with some points. If it were up to Arthur, the Cup of Life would remain with the Druids. Once they crossed the border into Cenred’s lands, Arthur felt a sharp pinprick in the side of his neck and the next thing he knew the two of them were waking up in a pit. 

Arthur made a point of standing very close to Merlin, acutely aware that she was the only female in the pit. When one of the men leaned into her with beady eyes, Arthur snarled viciously at him. A hand befell his shoulder and Arthur grabbed it reflexively, “Touch me again, you die.”

“Gwaine?!” Came Merlin’s far-too-happy response, and Arthur released him when he saw the familiar face.

“No manners, you royals.” That was all the greeting Arthur got before Gwaine’s attention honed in on Merlin, who was grinning stupidly. “Merlin, old friend, you look terrible.”

“Likewise.” Gwaine yanked her into a tight hug. Arthur resisted the urge to pull them apart and wondered why Gwaine always insisted on being so touchy-feely. “What are you doing here?”

“You know,” He shrugged. “Wrong place, wrong time, wrong drink.”

“Nothing’s changed there then.” Snipped Arthur as he shuffled closer to Merlin, who rolled her eyes. Something about Gwaine always made Arthur’d jealously flare up and Merlin found it all very amusing. Plus, Arthur was hot when he was jealous.

Gwaine tapped Arthur’s shoulder playfully and grinned, “That’s just unfair.”

“Where exactly are we?”

“In the bowels of an old castle.” Gwaine looked up at the pit’s entrance. “Belongs to a fella named Jarl.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Lovely bloke.” Gwaine crossed his arms, “Slave trader.”

A scratchy voice boomed down at them, a grimy rat of a man, all yellow teeth and oily skin was looking down on them. 

“Right, you filthy vermin. Which one of you is ready to face my champion in the arena?” Jarl’s keen eyes found Merlin. “No volunteers? Maybe I’ll let the winner have a go at our new lady here, after I’ve had her, of course.”

Arthur growled behind her and stepped forward possessively, outraged by the disrespect to Merlin’s honour and abhorred at the thought of someone else touching her. “I’ll fight your champion.”

Jarl eyed him up, slimy gaze finally leaving Merlin. “Very well, but if you lose, I’ll take your little girlfriend away from you and have some fun with her.” A wave of white-hot anger rose at the prospect. “Are you ready, my champion?”

“I am.” Both of them swivelled to stare at Gwaine, who gave them a very tight smile. And that’s how Arthur and Gwaine ended up with swords in their hands surrounded by cheering men. Merlin watched from the sidelines as they fought, neither of them holding back in the slightest. By some fluke, they managed to disarm one another and Merlin tilted her head in amusement as they rolled around on the floor. 

But enough was enough so Merlin directed her attention to the merry little torch that was burning next to the fight ring and let loose her magic. “Forbærne æltæwelice!”

The flames leapt up with a roar and engulfed the odd arrangement of ropes that hung above them. The fire crawled hungrily across the fibres and the men below scattered to avoid burns. Gwaine and Arthur came skittering out of the stampede and grabbed her.

They stopped running once they were a decent distance away, trying to catch their breath. Merlin leant back against a tree and rested her hands on her knees. “Well, that’s somewhere I’ll not be in a hurry to see again.” Gwaine huffed.

“Best stay out of trouble then.” As it turns out, Arthur only needed to have a skirmish with Gwaine with satisfy his jealousy. 

“I could say the same to you.” 

“You could, but I wouldn’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on, you must have done something to end up in a hole like that.”

Arthur hesitated before speaking, “Actually, we’re on a quest.”

“We’re looking for the Cup of Life.” Merlin interjected happily. Arthur turned to glare at her.

“What part of ‘secret’ don’t you understand?” 

“It’s Gwaine.” Merlin shrugged, Arthur continued to stare at her like she’d sprouted horns. “He knows about the magic.” She offered placatingly, but it had the opposite effect.

_”Merlin!”_

“It’s Gwaine.” She repeated innocently. Arthur looked at Gwaine and searched his face, he only found sincerity and a look he’d come to realise was love for a friend.

“I’d never put her in harms way, Arthur.” The two men shared a moment while Merlin watched on fondly, glad to see them getting along. “It seems, whatever it is that you’re after, you could use a little help.” Arthur threw his hands in the air and gave up. They started walking.

“So according to Merlin here, if you tell me where this cup is, you have to kill me?”

“Correct.”

“May as well tell me then. I mean, let’s be honest, you couldn’t kill me if you wanted to.”

“Yeah? Try me.”

“Already did, back in the arena. I had you banged to rights, did I not?”

“That was just a game.”

“Oh, a game, right.” Gwaine grinned wickedly. “I won that game, did I not?”

“No, you didn’t, one more minute-“

“One more minute and you both would have been dead.” They stopped walking, both turning around to Merlin, surprised by the testy outburst. She placed her hands on her hips and pointed at them accusingly. “Neither of you won! Your plan was a half-baked disaster and if it was not for that fire, _you’re welcome_ , we would all be pushing up daisies.”

Merlin stomped past them both, amazed at the egos of men. Sure enough, the sulky boys trailed after her and stopped squabbling like teenagers.

\- - 

After a tedious walk and several breaks, the trio came upon a cave network. It was well hidden, concealed by a thick assembly of evergreens. The entrance to the cave was narrow and the rocks encased with moss, but an entrance nonetheless. “Well,” Merlin drawled sarcastically, “Don’t tell me we’re actually here?”

“Easy, Merlin.” Warned Gwaine. “Wouldn’t want to rile the princess.” Merlin snickered, Arthur rolled his eyes and trotted down into he narrow valley leading to the cave. Inside, it was well lit by candles and there was a sparse gathering of tents, homage cloths were tied to birch poles. But it was void of people. Obly for a moment, then there was a surplus of Druids surrounding them. Behind her, Arthur unsheathed his sword.

“There is no need for violence, Arthur Pendragon.” A man stepped away from the group and toward Merlin.

The Druid leader addressed. “I am Iseldir. You seek the cup of life, do you not?”

“I do.”

Arthur shifted restlessly, mildly offended that they were showing more respect to Merlin than him when he was the royal one. “Then it is yours, my queen.”

Merlin's cheeks flushed at the title as she took the cup he offered. “I’m no queen.”

“Perhaps, not in the way you're used to, but to us, Queen Emrys, you are.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Druids govern by power, Emrys, and your power is greater than any.” Iseldir dropped a knee and bowed his head, the other Druids followed suit with excited whispering. Merlin’s ears burned at the show of reverence. 

“Please, stand.” They stood and Merlin almost couldn’t bare all of the adoration so she thanked them for the cup and took her leave. Before she stepped outside, Iseldir spoke again. “The cup is in your care now, Emrys. Guard it well, the future of this land depends on it.”

Once out, Merlin sighed heavily and pretended not to notice the gobsmacked expressions of her companions. “So, Queen Merlin of the Druids…anything you’d like to share with the group?” Gwaine teased.

Merlin cringed at the name, “Gods, don’t call me that. I knew they admired me but I had no idea how theatric they could be - I mean, _Queen_ Emrys? It’s absurd!”

“Yeah, what’s with that?” 

“Ah, well, it’s my name apparently.”

“But your name is Merlin?”

“Yeah, try telling them that. God knows I have, but they insist on using my prophecy-given name with no regard for the one my mother gave me.”

That statement opened the gateway for a different conversation and Merlin spent the next two hours of her life explain the prophecy to Gwaine while Arthur tuned it all out and walked ahead of them. Gwaine was a bottomless pit of questions and it filled the silence of the forest, but something felt off. 

“Quiet.” He demanded. “Listen.”

Gwaine exchanged a look with Merlin. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly.” Arthur said.

“Never satisfied you city types, ‘it’s too noisy, it’s too quiet’…” The second Gwaine stopped talking, a herd of Cenred’s man spilled through the trees with a collective battle cry. 

“Run!” Arthur yelled, and run they did. Merlin followed Arthur and Gwaine followed her and they ran until their legs were on fire. Cenred’s men were relentless in their pursuit as they pelted through the forest. Merlin chanced a look over her shoulder and saw the men behind Gwaine slowing down. 

The telltale whistle was all the warning Merlin got before an arrow lodged itself into the back of her thigh. She fell forward and then a knight was snatching the cup from her possession. 

“Merlin!” The knight was shoved roughly, Merlin’s vision abandoned her but she recognised Gwaine’s voice. Arthur, who was running ahead skidded to a standstill when he heard the shout. Upon turning around, he saw the cup spinning through the air.

Arthur followed it, but it fell into a valley and into enemy hands. He thought briefly about following the men, but another shout drew him away. “Arthur!”

Arthur slapped the ground and released a frustrated growl. Standing, he jogged back to Gwaine, found him kneeling beside an unconscious Merlin. There was an arrow imbedded in her leg and her pants were rapidly darkening with blood. Arthur hastily cleared away a patch of pine needles and pebbles, removing his jacket and folding it into a pillow. Then, he moved Merlin, very carefully, onto the softer ground.

“We’ve got to camp for the night, she needs rest.” Arthur felt oddly numb as he stared down at Merlin’s pallid face. He smoothed the air away from her face as Gwaine got to work on a fire.

With a substantial accumulation of sticks, Gwaine started striking two stones together until an ember caught. Dusk was swiftly approaching so Arthur focused his attention on the wound. Placing a firm hand against her leg and wrapping his other around the shaft of the arrow, Arthur braced himself. “Gwaine, could you get a bandage? There’s going to be a lot of blood when I take this out.”

Gwaine complied, making quick work of ripping a neat line of cloth from his shirt. He shuffled around to the other side of her, bandage at the ready. Arthur counted, 3, 2, 1, and then he gave a firm yank and the unpleasant crunch of the arrow bolt ripping up through her flesh filled his ears. Merlin whimpered in her sleep, face contorting in pain as Arthur pulled the arrow free. He tossed it back into the fire, watching as Gwaine wound the bandage around tightly to stop the bleeding. Arthur was surprised to fell moisture on his cheeks and he hastily wiped at the tears, squeezing his eyes shut to stop more from escaping. 

“She’ll be alright,” Gwaine chirped. “She’s a tough girl, our Merlin.” For once, Arthur didn’t mind the word ‘our’, it brought him comfort to know that there was someone who cared for her just as much as he did. Arthur had no doubt that Gwaine would give his life for Merlin, just as Arthur would. 

\- - 

The moon was glowing, providing more light than the fire. So, when they checked on Merlin’s wound late into the night, it was easy to see how much blood had soaking through the bandage. “That doesn’t look too great.”

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Arthur noticed how inflamed her skin was. “The arrow must of been poisoned.” Merlin’s body was shaking, faintly, but worrying all the same. Arthur placed a had across her forehead and found her skin clammy and hot. “She’s got a fever.” He said grimly, wiping sweat off on his trousers. She shivered again. 

“I don’t get it. Why all this bother over a cup?”

“Because,” Arthur preluded. “In the wrong hands, it can become a terrible weapon.”

“Not so great Cenred’s got it then.”

Arthur looked at the other man hopelessly. “It’s worse than you can possibly imagine.” His eyes dropped back to Merlin and he stroked her hair soothingly, pleased when she stopped shivering under his touch.

When dawn broke, Arthur was awoken by the sound of coughing. He bolted upright and saw Merlin trying to sit up with a pained look on her face. She looked around, then patted her body. “Where’s the cup?” Arthur didn't answer. “Where’s the cup?” She asked again, louder, and it woke Gwaine up. 

“Cenred’s men-“ He grumbled blearily, rubbing his face. “They took it.”

“Then what are we still doing here?” Merlin yelled indignantly. She tried to stand up, but a violent pain flared up her thigh and she stopped moving, “Ow.”

Arthur got up and hooked his arms under hers, hoisting her up. Merlin kept her foot on the ground, hesitant about putting weight on her leg. “We have to get back to Camelot before it’s too late.”

\- - 

“We must convene the council of war.”

“They cannot be stopped, the soldiers, sire, they will not fall.”

“What are you saying?”

“They will not die.”

“Prepare the knights, gather whatever defences you can.”

“But, sire-“

“Do it!”

\- -

They walked all day and Merlin grew frustrated with the amount of times they had to stop because of her. They came upon one of Camelot’s patrols, slaughtered, there wasn’t a single enemy body. Which meant that there was an immortal army marching on Camelot and they were helpless to stop it. They pushed on and passed several villages, every single one of them up in flames. Eventually, the castle of Camelot came into view, but that, too, had thick pillars of smoke rising from the turrets, the orange glow of fire visible against the white stones.

When they finally made it to the shallow valleyed road that lead to the castle, they found a littering of bodies. Knights of Camelot, massacred. The sight pained Arthur the most, these were his men and he felt the loss acutely. Merlin despaired at the sight. They pushed forward, stepping over countless bodies. The lower town was desolate too, homes and stalls destroyed and the air was thick with blood and smoke. A few small fires still spat and hissed at them as they passed through.

Merlin led then to Gwen’s house, hoping to find her there but it was empty and cold. Or at least it appeared that way until a man was jumping out at them with a sword in his hand. Arthur and Gwaine were quick to draw theirs. “Elyan!”

Elyan recognised her with a sigh of relief, lowering the sword. “I’m sorry, I-I-I thought that…”

“It’s okay, Elyan, please, what happened?”

“They came out of nowhere, a mighty army, weapons were useless against them.” He paused, distraught. “They were men, sire, but not men…nothing could kill them.”

“Sorry,” Arthur interjected. “Who are you?”

“Arthur, this is Gwen’s brother, Elyan.” They clasped forearms. “Elyan, Arthur. And this is Gwaine.” They clasped forearms too, must be a guy thing. “Elyan moved here a couple of months ago, he’s taken over Tom’s forge.”

“Where’s your sister, where’s Gwen?” Arthur asked.

“She was in the citadel when they attacked.”

“There’s still hope.”

“Sire…the citadel’s been taken.” Three became four and together, they all snuck through the lower town and into the siege tunnels. From there, it was easy to get inside the castle. They kept to the low-traffic corridors and used the serving stairwells. They got to the second floor without incident, then they saw the first glimpse of the enemy.

Men, in chainmail and black tunics bore the red crest of a rowan tree. The knights ran past, obviously sweeping the castle and the four of them snuck out once clear. The hallways were scattered the bodies of Camelot’s fallen, Arthur did his best to ignore it. Without warning, Merlin’s leg gave out beneath her and it was only Arthur’s quick reflexes that stopped her fall. “You can’t keep going like this, Merlin.”

“We must find the others.” She argued breathlessly, her face had lost all colour and her eyes were glassy.

“No, you need treatment.” Arthur said firmly. “Elyan, do you know the way to the dungeons?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Go with Gwaine, see if you can find Gwen and Uther.” The two of them took of and when Merlin tried to follow, Arthur had to put an arm across her chest to stop her.

“You’re coming with me.” Arthur hooked the back of her knees and lifted her up before making his way to the physician’s chambers. It was a miracle she was conscious at all. 

Once inside, Arthur sat Merlin on the bench seat and she slumped back against it. Arthur rummaged through the hoard of potions Gaius kept but wasn’t even sure what he needed. Then Gaius himself came hobbling out of a broom closet. “Gaius!”

“Arthur! I recognised your voice.”

“Are you alright?”

“All the better for seeing you.” 

“Please, Merlin needs treatment.”

Gaius bustled around Arthur and Merlin rolled onto her front, flipping her hand toward the leg. When he peeled the bandage back it came away sticky and discoloured. The whole area was tacky with blood. “The wound’s infected.” Merlin groaned. “I’ll have to redress the leg to reduced the inflammation.”

“No!” Merlin protested, already sitting up. “There’s no time, just give me something to keep going.” Gaius gave her the eyebrow but set about looking for the right potion anyway.

“The effect will be instant, but I cannot guarantee who long it’ll last.”

Merlin downed the bottle in one go, smacking her lips at the salty aftertaste. “Thanks.” As she said it, Gwaine and Elyan came running into the chamber out of breath.

“The king, sire, he’s alive.” Elyan proclaimed. “They’re taking him to the throne room as we speak.”

“Thank you. Gwaine, Elyan, take Gaius and make your way to the woods beyond the castle. I hope we meet again.” Arthur paused and rubbed his thumb over the pommel of his sword. He looked at Merlin, standing on steady legs for the first time in days. “Merlin, you should go with them.”

“Nah, I’ve seen the woods already.” Arthur laughed through his nose at that, and then he was off. The throne room wasn’t too far away so it didn’t take them long to get there. But Arthur led her up a concealed staircase that took them to a gantry overlooking the throne room. They crawled out on their bellies, staying low to avoid detection and they watched. 

Uther was forced to kneel and neither of them were surprised to see Morgause standing beside the throne. “Well, Uther, how the mighty have fallen.” She lifted the crown from his head. “I don’t think you’ll be needing this anymore.”

“This is unlawful, you cannot do this! You have no right to the throne!” Then Morgana was stepping forward, dressed impeccably, and she looked down at Uther with a sneer.

“No, she does not.” She smiled. “But I do, I am your daughter after all.” Merlin felt Arthur stiffen and she felt horrible. Can’t have been easy finding out Morgana is your sister and a traitor all at once.

“Don’t look so surprised, I’ve known for some time.” Morgana hissed, venom in her every word. She stopped looming over Uther and lowered herself into the throne as Geoffrey was shoved forwards.

“By the power vested in me, I crown thee Morgana Pendragon, Queen of Camelot.”

\- - 

It had been a week since Morgana took over. A week that they’d been living in a cave. Arthur had barely spoken a word since they’d left Camelot, he just sits pensively and stares into the fire. Gwaine and Elyan had been taking turns getting food and water, firewood. Merlin’s leg had healed.

They’d taken as much as they could. Clothes, blankets, medical supplies. Arthur’s hadn’t changed out of his armour since he’d put it on, though now, he only wore the chainmail. Everyone’s spirits were low, and only Arthur could reignite their hope, but first, Merlin needed to reignite his. She knelt across from where he was leaning, head resting against his hand. She offered him a bowl of stew.

“You need to eat.” Arthur said nothing, dull, empty eyes staring down at the dirt as despondency slumped his normally proud shoulders. “I understand. You’re father lied to you about Morgana, I don’t know why. But now is not the time for resentment, he is still your father and he needs you. Camelot needs you.”

“I’ve known her all my life, how could she do this to us?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“I don’t want to believe that she’s…that she’s a traitor.”

“Nor do I, but you have a duty to your people. You can’t give up on them now.”

“We cannot defeat as immortal army. Not even with you on our side.”

“We don’t know until we try.” Arthur gazed at the woman before him. She wore a dress now, simple enough that she could be mistaken for a servant. It was dirty, the bottom caked with dried mud and her hair was in tangles but Arthur still thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d even seen. Arthur marvelled at her strength, her ability to look so regal despite the worn appearance. Hope brightened her eyes, something Arthur envied. She found hope where no one else could, she was strong when no one else could be, she was a leader. She believed in him when no one else did, unwavering in her faith, unfaltering with her loyalty.

Despite himself, Arthur felt hope blossoming in his heart for the first time in a week. He took the bowl and started spooning food into his mouth. Merlin left him to eat in peace. 

When night fell, Merlin waited until everyone was asleep. Settling onto her bedroll, she cupped her hands, visualised her goal, and whispered, “Acennan hwy ic ascian.” Sure enough, a small weight settled into her hands. Looking down, Merlin found the Fisher King's vial. She wasn’t entirely sure what to do with Avalon’s water, but this certainly felt like Albion's time of need. She tried to scry for a solution.

“Geriht laec me.” Nothing.

“Fultume me.” Nothing again.

“Geondlihte gesweorc min.” It was useless, Merlin hung her head and sighed. With the vial clutched tightly in her hand, she laid down to rest. Perhaps tomorrow she could try again. Exhausted as she was, Merlin was sleep as she as she laid down.

Rustling woke her in the night and she jerked awake. The vial slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor, thin glass shattering against the rock. She looked over her shoulder to see Gwaine rising from his bedroll. Merlin looked back at the broken glass and despaired at the tragic little puddle. “Oh no…” The water started to move, gathering itself into a dip in the rock, glittering in the darkness as a pool formed. Merlin leant over the water, face illuminated by the blue light, and was astonished to see a face looking back at her. “Freya?”

“I’ve missed you, Merlin.” She smiled then, and Merlin’s heart lurched at the sight while tears gathered. “We don’t have long.” 

“Is it really you?” Freya nodded. “I don’t understand…”

“There is but one weapon that can slay something which is already dead.” Tristan’s wraith, she had taken a sword to Kilgharrah.

“A blade forged in the dragon’s breath.” She whispered.

“That weapon lies at the bottom of the Lake of Avalon, where you hid it.” Freya looked up at her from the water. “You must come to the lake.”

“And you will give me the sword?” The girl nodded.

“In your hands, it has the power to save Albion.”

“Thank you, Freya.” A single tear trickled down Merlin’s cheek as Freya faded away and then it was just an unremarkable puddle of water. Merlin wasted no time, tip toeing out of the cave so as to not wake anyone, and then she was running through the trees and toward a clearing. One big enough to hold a dragon. When he landed, Kilgharrah dipped into a bow before her. 

“I have to cross 20 leagues of hostile territory, I need you to take me.”

“I am not a horse, Merlin.”

“If you do not, then Morgana will have won, unless that’s what you want?”

“My allegiance has never been with the witch.”

“I know, but is it with me?”

“Yes, Emrys, it is with you.”

\- - 

When Merlin returned the next morning and slipped into the cave, Arthur burst out from nowhere in full armour, sword held high. “Whoah!” Merlin threw her hands in the air.

“Merlin! Where the hell have you been?” Arthur lowered his sword and engulfed her tightly, “I was worried sick.”

“Sorry, just needed some fresh air.” 

“Right. Well, the time for rest is over.”

“You seem better.” She observed.

“Well, turns out you can be useful when you want to. Yesterday, amongst all your gibberish, you said something wise.” Merlin smiled, leant up, and pressed a kiss to Arthur’s cheek. 

An alarmed yell had them both running outside. Gwaine was at the cave’s entrance, sword bared and Arthur quickly slipped into fight mode. The three of them wove around boulders stealthily, coming to a halt behind a mossy stone. Arthur swung his sword around the corner, Gwen gasped and only just managed to duck in time.

“Gwen!” Merlin yelled excitedly as she pushed past Arthur. Merlin was just as glad to see Sir Leon, unimaginably relieved to see them both unharmed. The moment was broken when Elyan came running toward them.

“We’ve been found!” He yelled. “They’re almost upon us!” Merlin ducked into the cave and retrieved Gaius and the group of seven took off into the woods. The cave was surrounded by a network of narrow gorges, a maze of moss-covered slate. They ran from the men behind them, but were blocked off by another group.

Someone shouted to look out, and then a hulking boulder was topping into the gorge and blocking the enemy behind a rock wall. More stones fell down, and then two men appeared above them. Merlin’s face spilt into a grin, “Lance!” 

\- -

They travelled through the woods, stopping to rest after a couple of hours. Everyone got to know one another, though the common factor that brought them all together was their love of Merlin and Arthur. The central figures approached Lance and his friend. “I take it that rockfall wasn’t an accident.” Arthur quipped.

Lancelet reached up to slap his friend on the shoulder, “This is Percival, it was his strength that brought them down.”

“Your highness.” Percival bowed his head.

“Arthur.” He corrected, offering his forearm, and Percival clasped it with a grin. “What were you doing here?”

“I sent for him.” Answered Merlin while she hugged Lance. “Good to see you again, Lance. Percival.” She acknowledged, offering her hand to shake. “I’m Merlin.” But Percival raised it to his mouth and dropped a kiss to her knuckles.

“My lady.”

Merlin grinned and waved her hand about, “Just Merlin.” Percival nodded.

“Well,” Arthur interjected. “We owe you our lives. Thank you.” 

\- - 

The group, now numbering nine, followed Arthur through the woods as he led them to the ruins of an old castle. The exterior was crumbled and weathered but it would be a vast improvement from the cave. The inside was musty and draped with cobwebs. “We’ll be safe in here?” Gwen asked nervously.

“This castle belonged to the ancient kings. It’ll do for a while.” Arthur looked around, lifting his torch for a better view. “Search the place, see what you can find.”

Merlin lit the hearth and all of the candles while the others searched. They found little. Some weapons left by bandits, but mostly old furniture covered with dust laden sheets. While the men rifled through weapons, Arthur ventured over to the tabl, pushed off to one side. He pulled the sheet off, a disturbed cloud of dust swirling into the air. Arthur swiped his hand over the wood and the engravings that decorated it. He looked around the room, at the faces of his friends. “Here, come and join me.”

One by one, everyone took a seat around the table. Arthur took Merlin's hand and led her to the seat beside his, on the right hand side

“This table belonged to the ancient kings of Camelot, a round table afforded no one man more importance than any other. They believed in equality in all things, so it seems fitting that we revive this tradition now. Without each of you, we would not be here. My father has languished in prison for too long, tomorrow…I make my bid to rescue him, are there any around this table who will join me.

Lancelot stood first. “You taught me the values of being a knight, the code by which a man should live his life: to fight with honour, for justice, freedom, and all that’s good. I believe in the world that you will build.”

Elyan was next. “Even though I was a commoner, a nobody, you were willing to lay down your life for me, Arthur. It is now my turn to repay you.”

Leon. “I have fought alongside you many times. There is no one that I would rather die for, Arthur.”

Gwaine. “I think we’ve no chance, but I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Percival. “Your enemies are my enemies.”

Gaius. “If you need an old man…”

Gwen. “You know the answer.”

Finally, Merlin rose from her seat and looked upon Arthur proudly. “I have always known that you would one day be the greatest king Camelot has ever known. There is nothing I want more than to see that happen.” Arthur wove his fingers through hers. 

“I want to thank you all for staying loyal to me in Camelot’s hour of need. I’ll do something that my father won’t approve of.” Arthur gestured for Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival and Elyan to kneel before him. Merlin couldn’t stop the tears of pride that glistened in her eyes as she watched on.

“Arise, Sir Lancelot, Knight of Camelot.”

“Arise, Sir Gwaine, Knight of Camelot.”

“Arise, Sir Percival, Knight of Camelot.”

“Arise, Sir Elyan, Knight of Camelot.”

“When you fight tomorrow, you can stand proud knowing you are members of the most noble army the world has even known.”

\- - 

“There is a tunnel under the Northern ramparts that brings us only a few paces from the entrance to the dungeons, it will be well guarded. If we’re going to break everyone out, we must remain unobserved we cannot let them raise the alarm.” 

“I can take out the warning bell, that way, the warriors have no means of communication, but I’ll need someone with me who knows the castle.”

“I’ll go.” Merlin said, “Morgana has the cup of life, if I can find it and empty if of the blood within, then her army will be destroyed.”

“All right, Gwen, you stay here with Gaius, I want you to gather firewood and make bandages. There will be causalities.”

“All right.”

“The rest of you, you’re with me, Merlin, Lancelot, we’ll meet you outside the dungeons.” With orders given, the knights started sharpening their swords. Gwen and Lance sat shoulder to shoulder, whispering about something with smiles on their faces. Arthur was leaning pensively against the round table when Merlin approached.

“I watched you last night, you gave them hope, something to believe in. I saw the king you will become.” She reached a hand up to his face and held it there, her thumb caressing his cheekbone. “I’m so proud of you, Arthur.” He gazed at her with tender eyes and leaned down into a kiss.

\- - 

Merlin and Lance snuck through the hallways, ducking behind pillars to avoid the passing guards and sticking to the shadows. They had just evaded another patrol when Merlin stopped and sucked in a sharp breath.

“What is it?”

“I can sense the cup’s power.” She closed her eyes and focused, searching the wave of magic for the source. When she found it, tendrils of her own magic latched on. “This way.”

Merlin navigated the hallways and followed her magic. It led them to a chamber in the east wing, but the doors were guarded by immortal soldiers. With encouragement, Lance stepped forward and started fighting. The loud clang of metal filled her ears and one by one, Lance passed them off to her and they fell to her blade. 

With the door guards vanquished, Merlin pushed open of the heavy wood and entered the chamber. The cup was perched on a stone pedestal, flanked by six guards. They got about halfway through when the warning bells tolled and _dammit_ she knew they’d forgotten something. The call of the cup had consumed her.

Merlin cut down the remaining guards but before she could get the cup, Morgause burst through the doors and yanked her through the air. Merlin rolled across the floor, quickly righting herself. She threw out her hand and cast, “Anhealdan ic ğehæbbe!”

Morgause froze, as did the entourage of knights behind her, encased by the spell. Morgause could only watch, eyes blazing with fury, as Merlin glided toward the pedestal and plucked the cup from it. Merlin was vaguely aware of Arthur and knights skidding into the room, almost bowling over the motionless people she held at bay. Maybe she’d accidentally frozen the whole castle.

Merlin stepped toward Morgause with a taunting smile as she held the cup aloft. “Ondon þy teonhète aldor, ende geweald.” Morgause’s eyes sparked with hatred as Merlin incanted the spell. She started to tip, tantalisingly slowly, and watched as the thick blood started to pour out. It glazed the stone floor vermillion and just like that, the immortal army was no more. She realised the spell that held Morgause, and the blonde raised her hand angrily, eyes flickering to gold but Merlin waved her hand and sent the witch into one of the pillars. She collided with an unhealthy crack and dropped to the floor like a rag doll. 

Morgana arrived, shoving past the knights and screaming at the sight of her sister. “It’s over, Morgana.”

Morgana glared up at her as she cradled Morgause and no matter hard hard she might try to hide it, Merlin could see the fear in her eyes. Morgana screamed, and a shockwave of her magic shattered the glass windows. “You're wrong! It has only begun!" Morgana yelled venomously

“I’d like to see you try.” She sneered, eyes once again shining like the sun as she summoned every piece of broken glass until Morgana was surround by a sphere of lethal shards. _”Leave!"_

Morgana clutched at Morgause, shot Merlin a filthy glare and vanished in a whirlwind. Merlin let her shoulders drop as soon as the wind cleared and Arthur was by her side in an instant. She leant against him gratefully.

“Merlin, that was…your _power_ …” She just smiled up at him fondly, glad to see that his eyes were void of apprehension and instead consumed by wonder, twinkling with unabashed fascination.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to get on your bad side.” Gwaine joked, sauntering over and clasping her shoulder with a merry grin. She swiped at her arm in jest. “Don’t suppose you could drop the ball of death, eh, Merlin?”

She blinked, and Gwaine gestured at the glass sphere that was still hovering ominously in the middle of the room, spinning every so slowly.

“Oh.” 

\- - 

With Camelot restored to glory, Merlin took the time to honour her promise to Kilgharrah. With Excalibur in her hand, she departed to place it where none could wield it. It seemed that Albion chose that place for her, for a twinkling beam of sunshine illuminated a limestone boulder near the centre of the wood. Merlin walked until she too was enveloped in the sun’s light and raised the sword high above her head.

Her magic surged forward to meet her summons and her eyes shimmered with the power of the sun as she brought the sword down on the boulder. The blade sliced cleanly through the rock, penetrating the stone without so much as a whisper of resistance. She stopped when just over half of the blade was embedded and sealed it, only her magic would be strong enough to free the sword from the stone, it bent only to her will. The sun glinted secretly off the golden hilt, Albion would guard this blade until Emrys returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Spells:
> 
> “Néadhæs ealdgewytht drýcræfte, unlucan þá aldor geedcucoda an edcierr se gástgeníðla lye foldræst. Sinnan ic bebodraeden” = "Obey my ancient power and undo the life wrongly restored. Return the souls to rest"
> 
> “Aliesan oþ mec ánlépig” = "Unlock to me alone"
> 
> “Ic séowan mín bealucræft to séo fyrngestréon Roewan Stæf. Befaestan mín se ánwald bebéodend” = "I join my power to the ancient treasure of the rowan staff. Make me the sole commander of the staff"
> 
> “Besmiðian mín sunscín, belócian sec biliþe” = "Forge my mirror, behold my image"
> 
> “Miht geoguðfeorh dægmælscéawere, beþecce me. Séo aldor gebiraþ ásláwian be ríceiu” = "Power of time, conceal me. This soul becomes old to others"
> 
> “Acennan hwy ic ascian” = "Bring what I seek"
> 
> “Anhealdan ic ğehæbbep” = "Hold them still"
> 
> “Ondon þy teonhète aldor, ende geweald” = "Undo the wrongful life, end command."


	4. Season 4

A year of healing tread the heels of Morgana’s brief queenship. While the castle and its inhabitants recuperated, Merlin did all she could to nurture it back to prosperity. There was an influx of green knights, young men all too eager to serve under Camelot’s banner. Arthur threw himself into their training in an effort to replenish their defence force as soon as possible. For the first few months, Arthur had always returned to his chambers at sundown with a defeated slump to his normally proud shoulders.

Merlin knew Arthur was overworked from restoring the physical body of Camelot so she had offered to shoulder the responsibility of castle morale, something Arthur took great solace in. Merlin spent the initial months of uncertainty trying to eradicate the climate of fear that had gripped Camelot’s people. She made her public presence approachable and it only took a week for people to talk to her normally again. Initially, she had been bereft of the warmth that usually exuded from the castle staff and townspeople. While her return was welcome, people had defaulted to their factory settings, when they called her ‘my lady’ it was said with a distance and formality she loathed.

Of course, it didn’t take long and after a week of glowing smiles and kind eyes, ‘my lady’ had once again became affectionate and it was spoken with a fondness that warmed her heart. No matter how insistent she was for people to call her Merlin, the formality of class was not a tradition she could overcome. The people used her title with a tenderness that announced how appreciative they were for her reassurance and compassion.

Gwen took over primary care of Uther. The king had become a shell of his former self. The psychological toll of Morgana’s betrayal had destroyed him and his retreat into the safety of his own mind had rendered him inoperative. He was a broken man. Arthur visited his father religiously for the first six months or so, but they only worsened his heartbreak. Uther spoke to no one, his son was afforded no exceptions. The king spent his days listlessly staring out of the window with glassy, unseeing eyes. With Uther out for the count, Arthur had become king in all but name and that meant that Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival and Elyan retained their knighthood. Merlin thought they all look fetching draped in the Pendragon cloaks.

Gwaine and Percy had developed a…concerning friendship and Merlin could only watch in horror as Gwaine corrupted the sweet man. The two of them were thick as thieves and it was usually Merlin that had to placate the hard-done-by people that feel victims to Gwaine and Percival’s antics. That said, she did find it hilarious when Arthur was the target of their mischief, had walked in on more than one occasion to see Arthur waking up with crude ink drawings on his face and had to stifle giggles while she waited for him to look in the mirror. It usually resulted in Arthur going on a lengthy tirade about knightly conduct and integrity. Merlin herself never fell victim to the boys, a fact which only seemed to irk Arthur, who promptly muttered about favouritism and treason. 

It hadn’t slipped Arthur’s notice that Gwaine had become devoted to Merlin. Not in a romantic way, but the man was always accompanying her to the markets. It might come across as a display of friendship but Arthur knew it was just Gwaine’s way of protecting Merlin and watching out for her, something Arthur was eternally grateful for. It brought his great comfort to know that if anything happened to him, Merlin would still be in safe hands.

Merlin ambled through the castle, watching gleefully as the castle prepared for Samhain. She was stopped on more than one occasion by servants asking for her opinion on some of the decorations, to which she always smiled graciously and offered some suggestions. The castle staff had come to regard her with more reverence over the past year. In the eyes of the people, she had become something of a queen to them. They knew she was trusted by the prince and everyone noticed how she had unwittingly taken up the roles of a monarch. Merlin seemed unaware of her assumed position. The servants knew that queens planned all the celebrations, feasts and other seasonal events, which is exactly what the Lady Merlin did. Ever since Arthur had become regent in Uther’s absence, Merlin’s presence in the castle had increased tenfold. In all but name, she had become the people’s queen. Arthur may be their regent, but Merlin was their first point of contact if any issues arose. In fact, Arthur himself seemed oblivious to Merlin’s unintentional status elevation, and was blissfully unaware that he had essentially instated Merlin as queen. 

Commoners were also glad to see Arthur being kinder to the lay people, flourishing into a wise young man under Merlin’s gentle guidance. They were indebted to her for steering their prince away from the arrogance and entitlement that Uther had instilled in him. Grateful that she was able to draw out Arthur’s true heart and nurture him into the young king they had grown to love. The people of Camelot waited patiently for Arthur’s rule.

“Perhaps we could wind the garlands around the railing instead of draping it, what do you think, Agatha?” Merlin stood beside the plump, middle-aged woman at the top of the stairs. Agatha stood with her hands clasped patiently in front of her, though she glowered at a young boy who accidentally dropped a load of candles. She was a giant mother hen and the servant matron.

“A wonderful idea, your majesty, I’ll get to work right away.” Agatha waddled down the stairs and started ordering the servants about before Merlin could correct her. What started out as a slip up by a young girl in the marketplace had spread like wildfire and soon enough she found herself correcting people left, right, and centre. It blew over almost as soon as it started but Agatha had been particularly resistant to her corrections and Merlin wondered if perhaps she was hard of hearing. 

With the garlands under control, Merlin left them to work. Her heels clicked and clacked as she strode through the castle with a thick, white cloak bellowing out behind her. She wrung her gloved hands together to fend off the cold. They were in the midst of autumn but the icy bite of winter hovered ominously at the air’s edge. Nodding to the guards she forewent knocking and pushed open the heavy door. “Are you ever going to knock?”

“I finished that speech for you.” Arthur rolled his eyes to the heavens as Merlin ignored his question. He watched from his desk as she unclipped her cloak and slung it haphazardly over the table, revealing the purple dress below. “I know the feast isn’t for another two days but I thought it better to get it out of the way.” Merlin tossed the scroll over to him as every candle in the room flared to life.

Arthur sniffed as he read through it and Merlin leant against the bedpost to arch an eyebrow. “Needs a polish.” She snatched it out of his ungrateful hands.

“Oh, it does not.” Arthur’s lip twitched as Merlin rolled it back up and set it on his bed table, next to the crumpled white shirt and he watched with trepidation as she squinted suspiciously at it. “Arthur…this had better not be your shirt for the feast.”

“And if it is?” He smiled innocently but swallowed when Merlin’s glare only grew more severe and she stalked towards him, shirt in hand.

“Morris spent all damn day scrubbing out an old wine stain and steaming it, only for you to toss it into a raggedy pile.” She cuffed him round the head, Arthur pouted. “Ungrateful prat.” 

Merlin stalked off to his wardrobe, muttering angrily under her breath as she hunted down a stray hanger and lodged the shirt onto it. Her eyes flashed wordlessly during her rant-to-self and all the wrinkles obediently sorted themselves out before she shoved the shirt onto the rail with more force than necessary. Arthur smiled softly at her. 

Merlin continued to talk under her breath as she closed the door and Arthur crept up behind her, winding his arms around her waist and pressing kisses to her neck. She sighed heavily and Arthur felt her shoulders slump as she leaned back into his chest. “What’s the matter, love?” 

“Bloody Agravaine, he’s always hanging around like a bad smell.” Arthur continued his ministrations and slowly started backing them towards the bed. “Like today, I caught him staring at me from behind a tapestry, Arthur, _a tapestry.”_

“Mm, weird.” 

“Right? Not to mention that he insists on second guessing me at every turn, always eyeing me with disapproval whenever I talk to the servants.” 

“Let’s not talk about him now, you need to relax.” Merlin sighed heavily again but let him manhandle her. Arthur peppered her face with kisses as his fingers deftly started undoing the laces of her dress. He sucked intently at the skin below her ear and she let out a soft moan. Encouraged, he slipped the dress down over her shoulders. Arthur felt her magic flare to life under his touch and the room grew warmer in response to her shiver.

With her dress gone, he divested his own clothes and placed a hand on her shoulder. Merlin allowed herself to be pushed down into the comfort of the mattress. Arthur followed her down and brought her into a fierce kiss, she handed him control as he lavished her mouth with a treacherous balance between tender and punishing. The kiss stripped away all thought, so consumed by Arthur’s mouth, she hadn’t noticed his hand trailing down until he gave her nipple a sharp pinch.

Merlin took a sharp intake of breath through her nose as she arched into the touch. Arthur’s fingers toyed with the pink bud to the point of torture and he chuckled at her frustrated moan. Finally, he relinquished his hold on her lips and kissed a trail down to her neglected breast and began to suck, rough fingers pinching at her other one the whole while. 

Her fingers flexed around Arthur’s bedsheets as her body shivered under his attention, heat pooled low in her belly and she moaned, defenceless to his assault. Arthur closed his teeth around her while his other hand gave a pinch, keeping her on the precipice of pain. Merlin clenched her thighs against the rush of arousal and let out a stuttering breath. “Please, Arthur.”

“Please what?” Blood rushed to his cock at the wrecked sound of her voice and her knee lifted to brush against him. Minx.

“I want to feel you inside of me, I need it.” Arthur wasn’t done with her yet, not satisfied with her ability to speak. He released her nipples, flushed and taut from his battery. Arthur smoothed his hands down her sides, revelling in the softness of her skin as he pressed a trail of kisses down her stomach. He rubbed the inside of her thighs and took them in a punishing grip, which earned him a moan. He had learned that Merlin was no delicate flower when it came to sex, a fact that woke his more primal needs that pulsed with the need to claim and dominate.

Arthur touched her everywhere it didn’t matter, and he continued to do so until she was writhing beneath him and all but sobbed out his name. He indulged her. When his fingers found her centre she was soaking wet, the tops of her thighs tacky with arousal and he tongued at her clit relentlessly, sucking it with enough pressure to give pleasure, but not release. Merlin’s moans filled the room. 

Arthur smiled to himself when Merlin thrust up into his mouth, impatient for the release he denied her. Two fingers pushed in without warning. Merlin’s surprised gasp quickly gave way to a guttural moan as he hooked his fingers inside of her. Arthur marvelled at the way she glistened on his fingers in the firelight. He set a brutal pace, pumping his fingers into her as she vocalised. She grew lax around his fingers so he added a third and was met with familiar resistance. 

Merlin thighs quivered around him as her back arched into the sensation, fingers leading the sheets astray. By now, Arthur’s cock was begging for its own release, seeping precome as it bobbed between them. He drew himself up onto his knees and loomed over her, drinking in the sight below him. Merlin looked beautiful like this, with her hair splayed beside her, cheeks flushed with arousal, eyes darl and blown wide.

He leant over her and pushed in, locking eyes with the woman underneath him and watching hers flutter as he filled her inch by inch. Arthur let out a low moan as he was engulfed by her slick heat and he couldn’t hold back any longer. Pulling out until on the tip remained, he slammed back in, jolting Merlin’s body. His thrusts were fast and deep, each stroke drawing out a delicious moan from Merlin, whose legs were wrapped tightly around his waist. 

Arthur could feel his release building, and Merlin was close too if the squeeze of her thighs was anything to go by. He picked up his pace, snapping forward until the sound of skin on skin echoed around the chambers. Merlin grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down into a desperate kiss and he grunted into it. She shuddered beneath him, thighs tightening evermore as the damn finally burst and her release washed over her. Arthur kept thrusting, knowing that it only heightened her pleasure and the tightening muscle around his cock was all he needed. 

Merlin panted beneath him, chest heaving with the effort to draw in regular breath. He watched eyes turn gold under half closed lids, the spell to stop quickening with child. The fire crackled merrily as they lay together, Merlin curled into his side with her head on his shoulder, Arthur absently running a hand through the softness of her hair. It had grown dark outside, though he wasn’t sure when. Arthur flexed his arm as a means of nudging Merlin and she groaned pitifully, snuggling closer. He sighed fondly and nosed at her cheek before pressing a kiss there. Rolling away, he bundled the sleeping woman into his arms and ushered her under the blankets. Merlin protested pathetically as he shuffled over to the door, telling a passing servant to have Lady Merlin’s breakfast brought to his chambers in the morning. 

Merlin was pouting up at him when he returned so he slipped into bed, lest he cause her anymore suffering, and she shuffled over to him without haste. She buried her face into his shoulder, cold nose a mild irritation against his skin. Arthur curled protectively around her small frame, holding her close. 

“Merlin?” She huffed and one of her lithe hands ventured out of the blankets. The candles smothered themselves at the lazy flick of her wrist and they were plunged into darkness. She also gestured in the general direction of the curtains, which snapped shut by her command. They fell into a restful slumber 

\- - 

When they had first started sleeping together, Arthur had quickly discovered that Merlin was an utter urchin in bed. It didn’t matter how many times he moved in the night, her grabby little hands always found him again. Arthur usually woke up on his stomach with one arm hanging over the edge of the bed, and somehow, Merlin always ended up pressed along his side with a hand slung over his back.

He didn’t mind, it was actually rather cute and endearing. But he did marvel at the way she abandoned the entire bed in favour of glueing herself to his side. So, when the sun cut a clean line through the gap in the curtains, Arthur blinked awake to a familiar weight across his back. He turned his head and squinted impatiently while his eyes adjusted. When they did he was treated to the alabaster curves of Merlin’s shoulders, her face shoved into the pillow like she was determined to become one with the bed. The shock of inky black hair prominent against the white sheets. 

Arthur shimmied his hand out from between them and let his fingers wonder, thumb ghosting over her plump bottom lip before swiping affectionately across a defined cheekbone. The corner of her eye twitched in response to the touch, his fingers carded through her hair in summons. Merlin’s eyelashes fluttered, crystal blue eyes opening to meet his. She smiled, soft from sleep. There was a quite, almost cautious knock at the door and Arthur said nothing, the door rattled open anyway. He didn’t even bother rolling over to see who it was, the near inaudible footfalls and clattering of silverware was enough to tell him their breakfast had arrived. The two serving boys scurried out of the chambers with red ears, obviously still young enough that sharing a bed seemed taboo.

Arthur pressed a tender kiss to Merlin’s nose - it was still cold - and pushed the sheets away, taking a moment to stretch before trekking all the way to the table to fetch some fuel for the day. Merlin watched him with lazy eyes, admiring the flex of his muscled shoulders and pert ass and he disappeared from bed. 

Eventually, she summoned enough energy to abandon the warm confines of bed and picked up one of Arthur’s stray shirts. It was chilled from the stone floor, but being engulfed by his scent made it bearable. Merlin walked barefoot to the table, aware of Arthur’s hungry gaze tracking her. He raked over her legs, they may be long but his red shirt still came three quarters of the way down her thighs. 

She plopped down into the chair adjacent to him and greedily snatched a bunch of blackberries off her plate. Arthur had learnt that she had an affinity for fruits, Merlin rarely touched the cold meats and cheeses so Arthur always ended up eating her share, all too happy to pawn of his fruit. Merlin always, without fail, had a sprig of mint on the edge of her platter, which she chewed on after every meal. They broke fast in relative silence, perfectly content just being in each others presence.

\- - 

“The reports are true, sire.” Leon announced. “We caught up with Morgana on the Plains of Denaria.”

“Was she alone?”

“There was someone else.” Elyan added with a distrustful shake of his head.

“Morgause?”

“Couldn’t be sure.” 

“Where was Morgana heading?” Merlin asks, suspicions already swarming.

“The Seas of Meredor, my lady.”

“The Isle of the Blessed.” She said, and the room succumbed to a hush. “Send patrols at first light.”

“Thank you, Merlin.” She ducked her head to Arthur.

“Sire, you should know, her powers have grown. Sir Bertrand and Sir Montague are both dead.”

“Keep me informed of any developments.” The knights bowed and the council was dismissed. Merlin stayed back, reluctant to leave Agravaine alone with Arthur. There was something not quite right with that man.

With the council gone, Arthur spoke again. “For months nothing. Why now?”

“We knew she couldn’t stay hidden forever. Today, tomorrow - what does it matter?” Merlin narrowed her eyes at the phrasing, almost like he’s…attempting to deter Arthur from figuring it out.

“Camelot is strong.” Merlin touched Arthur’s arm, reassuring. “If Morgana were to act, we’d be ready for her.” 

“You’re right, of course.” The lines of worry ebbed from his expression, he covered her hand with his own. “I don’t know how I would have got through these last few months without you.”

Merlin shoots a quick look at Agravaine and finds a pinched look on his creased face. When he catches her watching, his features smooth out and he offers her what’s meant to be a friendly smile. Her magic stirs with unease.

\- - 

Cook had outdone herself this year - honey ham, wine sauce rabbit, venison stew, fig pie, date fritters, and of course, lemon cakes. All that decadence paired with spiced wine and seasonal fruits? Lavish. The feast was magnificent and Merlin was happy to be sharing the opulence with her friends. She was a the high table with Arthur and, begrudgingly, Agravaine. Arthur still occupied the prince’s chair for he didn’t have the heart to assume position at the centre of the table. Uther’s chair remained empty. Ivy garlands swooped around the room and the cultivation of candles blazed zealously to establish a cozy ambiance. Minstrels and bards kept a delightful tune through the night that mingled pleasantly with the hum of chatter. The banquet was in full swing when Arthur rose from his seat, regal in his circlet and crested cape. Merlin stood with him.

“Samhain - it is the time of year when we feel closest to the spirits of our ancestors. It is a time to remember those we have lost, to celebrate their passing…”

Merlin didn’t hear the rest because a horrible sound drowned out Arthur’s voice. Like a volatile wind blowing past, harsh and rasping, and there were screams too, horrible shrieks. The people around her were saying something and clinking their glasses, but they were moving slowly, as though time was grinding to a halt. A woman stood in the middle of the room, deathly pale, eyes sunken and the skin around them discoloured. The woman stared right at her, tattered black robes lifted by a wind that didn’t touch anyone else.

“Emrys.”

A chill, colder than death, capered across her skin. Icy fingers sunk into her heart and Merlin had never felt colder, the very air in her lungs grew frigid and left her arctic.

“Emrys.”

The goblet of wine she’d been holding escaped her fingers, bouncing off the table to clatter abrasively across the floor. The wine it held flared dramatically through the air, wetly decorating the flagstones. The banquet fell quiet and everyone watched as Merlin collapsed. Eyes rolling into her skull, numb, barely registering the crack of her head when she met the floor. 

\- - 

Arthur hadn’t moved from Merlin’s side, where she'd been swathed in blankets and cocooned in Arthur’s bed. He’d left the banquet in such haste he hadn’t bothered to call it’s end, the night was young after all. She looked pitifully pale and her dark hair did nothing to help the image. At first he’d feared poison, but Gaius was quick to debunk the thought. This was something uncanny. Arthur trailed his fingertips down the edge of her face, unnerved by the chill that seeped into him at the touch. She shivered.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Gaius’s vacillation came as no help to Arthur’s frayed nerves. “I’ve never felt anyone so cold before.”

“Will she be alright?”

“I’ll need to retrieve some hawthorn to improve blood flow.” 

Arthur didn’t comment on the lack of assurance but it struck a bolt of fear through him anyway. He couldn’t live with Merlin, her death would surely destroy him. Arthur’s not sure how long he waits. His back ached persistently from the hunched posture and his arse had long gone numb. Hours passed, but the moon stubbornly remained. Merlin shivered violently enough that it jerked him awake and he scraped a hand over his face tiredly. She moved again, but with purpose and he was inexplicably relieved to see slivers of blue through lidded veneers. Blearily, she pushed herself upright and pulled a blanket around herself, fingers gripping desperately at the hem. Arthur wasted no time whatsoever climbing into bed and slotting in behind her. She settled back against his chest, thankful for his furnace like heat. 

“Are you okay?”

“I…don’t know.” She shivered again. “There was a woman, when she spoke, her voice - it was as thought it came from the depths of the earth.” Another shiver. “And her eyes...they were despairing. There was so much pain in them and there was screaming, unbearable screaming.”

Merlin sniffed and Arthur snaked his arms around her waist, tugging her closer. “Who is she?”

“I’d have to speak with Gaius to be sure, but…I believe it was the Cailleach, the gatekeeper to the spirit world.”

“Why was she there?”

“It was on the stroke of midnight on Samhain’s eve, the very moment when the veil between the worlds is at its thinnest. It cannot be a coincidence. She knew who I was, called me Emrys.”

“What does it mean?”

“Don’t know, but if someone’s torn the veil between worlds then we’ve got hell coming.”

\- - 

Merlin slept off the chill and woke feeling warm. Arthur’s body pressing against hers probably had something to do with it, he’d wrapped himself around her like a ribbon. Arthur grumbled adorably when Morris came in and tore open the curtains, he and Merlin shared a hushed giggle at the sulky prince. They hadn’t the chance to get out of bed before Leon was striding it, summoning Arthur to the council chambers as a matter of urgency. When they arrived, a woman was sobbing under Gaius’s comforting hand. 

Arthur handled the distraught young woman admirably, with warmth and compassion and none of the distance Uther was known for. Usually Merlin dealt with the hysterical ones so she was pleased to see Arthur stepping up. 

“There was no one, just…shapes. They had no faces. They were there, but…they weren’t there. They moved so quickly. If was as if they weren’t real, but…they must have been. I could hear people screaming…and then…silence. They were all dead!”

The girl, Drea, started crying again and Gaius pulled her into a fatherly hug. Merlin hoped to God her own fear wasn’t showing on her face but it was with mounting dread she knew the story to be true. The spirits of the dead were indeed among the living. 

\- - 

Together with the knights, Merlin and Arthur rode for Howden shortly after council. A thin fog dampened the woods they rode through and Merlin spent the entire journey on edge, every sound a shock to her threadbare nerves. By the time the village came into view, dusk had settled in the sky. It was far too quiet. The horses were left on the outskirts as they opted to traverse on foot. Ghosting through the stagnant village, the only sign of life a roaming flock of chickens. 

As the group moved silently over the packed-dirt paths, the boys made a protective circle around Merlin but they didn’t seem to do so consciously. Abandoned washing slapped in the wind, fighting to come off the lines, it was the only movement in the whole village. A door left ajar groaned and they drew to a halt. The knights shuffled into a tighter circle with swords at the ready. A goat bleated and trotted out of the deserted house to disappear down the street. The knights released a breath and lowered their weapons, Arthur urged them forward.They neared what was evidently a small market; shabby tables had been knocked askew and wooden crates were sprawled haphazardly across the floor, produce lay abandoned in the dirt. A loud crunch had everyone starting, all whirling around to shoot glares at Gwaine.

“Sorry.” He muttered around a mouthful of apple, raising the vandalised fruit up in apologetic salute. He took another bite anyway.

“Here!” Elyan signalled. Crouched in the back corner of a house, standing when everybody clattered inside. Two bodies lay together in sleep, faces crusted with ice and eyes open, frozen in fright. A faint shriek echoed around them, but this time it wasn’t just Merlin who heard it. All the knights turned toward the sound and everyone saw the white fog absconding out the window. 

They used what they could from the house to fashion some torches, setting them ablaze before venturing outside again. Night had fallen, the eeriness from earlier amplified by the dark. They spilt up, something Merlin was very uncomfortable with but nothing she voiced aloud. Gwaine and Percy went left, Elyan and Leon went right, Arthur and Lance went straight ahead and took Merlin with them. As the trio passed a barn, a clatter emanated from within. Merlin stopped and peered inside, squinting against the darkness as Arthur and Lance continued on, neither one noticing her absence.

Walking through the hefty doors, she looked around and found nothing obscure; rope, hay, ploughing gear, buckets. Something rustled behind her. She approached with caution, unable to see past the shadows and she jumped in fright as something burst forth with a screech.

A chicken, belligerent as it clucked past her skittishly. Merlin took a breath and tried to calm herself. She heard a shriek again. Goosebumps bloomed against her skin as a shiver fled down her spine. Spinning around just in time to catch something passing the barn doors, another shriek, louder. Merlin ran outside and followed the shape, the only visible sign the fluctuating air around it. It vanished before her eyes and she was left staring a nothing. Unsettled by the looming darkness, she raised a palm and let a light blink into existence. 

She moved her hand around, her little light not really helping but bringing comfort nonetheless. Steam was rising from behind a fence, or at least, she hoped it was steam. Her valiant light sphere was flickering weakly, then it gave up and died out. Merlin tried to bring it back and her magic rose to obey her, but right before it could something snuffed it angrily. Nothing she did brought it back and an echoing scream stopped her efforts. When she looked, there was no one there. 

Again. Then again. Screams and wails coming from everywhere and nowhere and Merlin felt an unnatural chill pressing in around her. A shriek, louder and closer, had Merlin turning around and seeing something that froze her blood. A skeletal face, a smokey apparition racing towards her with it’s mouth unhinged and it’s boney hands reaching for her. Magic rose like a tidal wave but none of her spells banished the cadaverous smog.

“Merlin!” Arthur, jutting his torch into the air, the creature screeched murderously, unsightly form dissipating into a cloud of wisps until that too faded to nothing. When Arthur turned to check she was okay, a wet gathering of tears lined her eyes while she took in shaky breaths. Arthur pulled her into a one-armed hug and Merlin clung to him desperately.

“My magic - I couldn’t use it.” Merlin blinked rapidly and tried not to cry but she was more frightened than she’d ever been in her life. Her magic had never failed her before, never.

“You’re alright, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Merlin.” Arthur hushed. He looked around apprehensively as Merlin trembled against him, brows knitting together while he searched the sky. 

\- - 

They made it back to Camelot unharmed. Sadly, the same couldn’t be said for all of Camelot’s people. Arthur held a private council in his chambers with only Merlin, Gaius, and Agravaine.

“We’ve suffered 50 dead, maybe more, mainly in the lower town.” Agravaine reports.

“And there’s no way of fighting them?”

“No. Our only weapons are torches and the light doesn’t kill them, it only repels them.”

Arthur looks to Gaius, “What are they?”

“The Dorocha, sire, the spirits of the dead. On Samhain’s eve, in the time of the Old Religion, the High Priestess would perform a blood sacrifice and release them.”

“But who would do such a thing now?” Agravaine pesters. 

“Morgana. We know she was travelling to the Isle of the Blessed.”

“How do we defeat these creatures?”

“I don’t know, sire, no mortal has ever survived their touch.”

\- - 

When the sun begins to abandon them, Merlin finds herself with Arthur and occupies herself by lighting every single candle in the room by hand. She replaces the dead ones but a distant shriek makes her drop a couple of the new candles in fright. One of them rolls away to play hide and seek in the curtains and Merlin stares into the shadowed corner. She does so for an indeterminable time but apparently, it’s too long, Arthur sighs from the other side of the room.

“Just pick it up.” She doesn’t move. Arthur arrives at her side, looks at her, then at the corner. The end of the candle is visible in a pillar of moonlight, but it’s also concealed by the curtains and Merlin can’t seem to inspire movement.

“Do you want me to get one of the maids to do it?”

It’s not a joke.”

“Yeah.” He mutters. Arthur rubs her arm and moves to get the candle. With his sword holding back the curtains, Merlin lets out a breath. There’s nothing there. He bends down and snatches up the candle, tossing it playfully into the air.

“My magic is useless against them.” She takes the candle and slots it into the sconce. “I have never felt so powerless.”

“Merlin…”

“When it came for me I felt this emptiness. I couldn’t breathe.”

Stroking the smooth wax with her fingers, Merlin shuddered at the memory. A flame scoffed to life under the touch and got to work softening the wax. It was the most basic of elemental magic, but it helped. The soulless screeching of Dorocha sounded faintly from beyond the walls, Merlin swallowed and let her hand drop away from the candle. 

“You’re not scared?”

“Oh I am, Merlin.” Arthur looked away from the window. “Maybe more than you.”

\- - 

People came to Camelot from far and wide, even from the outlying villages. Seeking protection and safety within the citadel, and they would give it to them. Despite Agravaine’s petitioning against housing so many peasants, Arthur would never turn his people away. At this point, almost every room in the castle was brimming with people. The courtyard housed those that didn’t fit inside, but the commoners were content being close to the castle. Very few of them had even seen it despite living in the kingdom for generations. Seeing the knights and ladies and the prince was very exciting. 

“I fear the Dorocha cannot be defeated by swords and arrows, sire, if I am right and the veil between the worlds is torn, then there’s only one path open to us - to travel to the Isle of the Blessed and repair it.“

“How do I do that?”

“For the tear to be created, it would have required a blood sacrifice. To seal it will require another.”

\- - 

They left for the Isle the next morning and the people watched them go. Arthur and Merlin led the way, smiling down from their horses as they passed through the masses. Many a little girl looked upon Merlin and wished that one day they too could be a princess. The knights trailed behind them, sombre and steadfast. The boys had become Arthur’s inner circle and they all loved Merlin like a sister. It was a harrowing journey, the roads were littered with frosted bodies and the towns they passed were barren and quiet. Death lingered in the air. By dusk, they reached the ruins of Daolbeth. Camp was assembled in a rush to beat the moon.

A fire was lit, and the torches burned brightly but in a castle without ceilings they felt far too exposed. It was too quiet. When the moon struck it’s apex, Gwaine tossed in the last log. Arthur volunteered to search for more and Merlin wasn’t letting him from her sight. As they tread through the ruins, sticks flew into her waiting arms, before long, she had collected an impressive pile.

Grating screams sounded around them. A gaping skull came speeding toward them in it’s ghostly smog.

“Merlin, look out!”

Arthur flung himself onto her and the jarring fall sent the sticks cluttering out of her hold. The Dorocha swept past them, missing the target but the rush of air snuffed Arthur’s torch. They hared madly through the rubbled castle, chased by hollow screams. With no fire and her magic out for the count, they evaded the best they could and hid behind a wall, sitting on the damp floor. Merlin shivered, beside her, Arthur’s teeth chattered. The Dorocha must be close for the air to have grown so frigid. A cacophony of shrieks echoed around them.

“All the things I’ve faced, I’ve never worried about dying.”

“I don’t think you should now.” Merlin said, already resolved to preserve Arthur’s life no matter the cost. She offered a small smile, glad to see it returned. They vanished in the wake of another eerie shriek, closer than before.

“We will defeat the Dorocha, we will, Arthur.” Merlin shuffled closer and wove their gloved hands together, enjoying his warmth. “Together.”

“You’re a brave woman, Merlin.”

The temperature plunged and a more plentiful choir of screams rang through the walls. Both of them eyed the meagre wooden door, peeking around the crumbled wall. A plume of wispy air snaked through the cracks and a skeletal shape took form as it screamed. Arthur started to move and Merlin shoved him back, shooting up to face the vengeful spirit. It’s boney maw gaped open hungrily and it screeched again, but now it sounded like the agonised screaming of a hundred people.

“Merlin, no!”

It merged through her, arctic fog seeping through her skin and into her heart. The force of the unearthly impact had her lifting into the air and propelling back against the wall with a sickening crunch.

“No, no, no, no…” Arthur didn’t register the knights bursting in with torches. He couldn’t think, moving on auto-pilot until he was on his knees next to her body. Too still. It was a trembling hand that clasped her shoulder.

“No.” The knights were quiet at his back. She was cold, stiff, face white and crusted with frost. Someone’s hand rested on his shoulder as he clung to her, barely managing to hold the tears at bay. The sound of icy crystals clinking onto the ground as Arthur swipe over her hair almost drowned out the most important sound of them all. A breath, raspy and shallow but a breath nonetheless. 

\- -

“I won’t let her die.”

“Sire, if we don’t get to the Isle of the Blessed, hundreds more will perish.”

“Water…”

Arthur crouched down beside Merlin, who was still an unhealthy white. Since propping her by the fire, the ice had thawed from her skin. He beckoned with his hand and Gwaine slotted a waterskin into it. Merlin rejected it when Arthur placed it against her lips.

“Take me to water.”

“What?”

Merlin tried getting up, grunting at the stiff joints that confined her to the ground. Lancelot took the pile of blankets away as Arthur lifted her. With her legs steady below her, Merlin started venturing through the ruins and down to the thin river that ran it’s perimeter. She dropped to her knees and laid down, dipping her fingers into the cool water. Arthur crouched beside her, not really sure what she was hoping to achieve. Merlin closed her eyes and relaxed but it looked to Arthur like she’d passed out. A faint blue glow rose upon her skin so Arthur picked up her wrist, intrigued.

“Arthur.”

He looked around for the woman’s voice but found no one.

“Arthur.”

A droplet rose from the water’s surface, as did several others. Arthur looked upon them in wonder, captivated by the face he saw there. 

“We bare you no harm. We wish only to help.”

“What are you?”

“We are Vilia, spirits of the brooks and streams. The tear in the veil has upset the balance of the world, good spirits as well as bad roam freely.”

“Merlin knew to come here.”

“Emrys is connected to the land, she is a creature of magic. Even now my sisters begin to heal her.”

“She is human.” 

“Indeed, but she is stronger than you give her credit for, alive after the Dorocha when no mortal has survived their touch.”

“How can that be?”

“Emrys was born of magic, the young witch has great power…and a future that has been written since the dawn of time.”

Merlin’s breathing improved from strenuous rasps, a healthy flush returned to her cheeks. The lucent blue haze trickled down her arm, back into the water, she blinked awake. Blue eyes clear and alert as she stood from the ground and started traipsing back into the ruins to find the knights, leaving Arthur by the river with his thoughts. If the Vilia were to be believed - and Arthur had his reservations - they seemed to think Merlin was…immortal. Because no _mortal_ had survived the Dorocha and yet Merlin was walking around with a sunny smile like nothing had happened. 

But what implications dis this have? Was she to outlive them all, watch everyone grow old and die while she lived on? Arthur didn’t know and he didn’t particularly want to think about it either, for now, he’d be thankful she was still with him.

They made good ground that day and when dusk crept up on them, they sought refuge in the Wilddeoren tunnels. It would take days off their journey, but Gwaine still had some very passionate words about the use of gaia berries. It could have gone smoothly but Gwaine ended up shanking one of them and they spent the night evading the rest of the pack. When they next breathed fresh air, the sun was up and encouraging birdsong in the trees. A shallow, trickling stream snaked around the caves and they wasted no time washing up. The gaia berry paste was tacky and congealed and warranted an irritating amount of scrubbing, but the fresh water soothed their skin. Clean and ready for another day for travelling, the waterskis were filled and they were on their way once more. 

Breaks were afforded few and far between, and eventually they were forced to stop by the darkening sky. At least here, in the forest, they had plenty of fuel to get them through the night. Arthur took the first watch, sitting vigilant at the camps edge. Merlin joined him and they sat in silence as she watched him ruminate.

“It’s going to be fine.” She spoke quietly. “Everything will be alright.”

“I’m just tired.” Merlin knew that to be a lie, but Arthur wasn’t one to voice his worries.

“You don’t have to sacrifice yourself.”

“I have to save my people.”

“I will take your place.”

“Merlin-“

“What is my life compared to that of a prince?”

“Don’t even think about it. A life without you…I might as well die. You mean more to me than anything, Merlin. I can’t lose you.” Merlin hushed him with a kiss. Arthur wouldn’t die on her watch, but perhaps it would go smoother if she let him think she’d conceived her sacrifice. 

\- - 

Another day, and as the sun began it’s decent, a familiar sight had come into view. But Merlin’s brows pinched together, for the Isle looked not as she remembered. The fortress thrived on magic and with Nimueh and Morgause gone and Merlin in Camelot, the castle had deteriorated. While the boat warden led them through the channels, Merlin gazed upon the building sadly. The water they waded was murky and choked with algae and the once mighty castle had succumbed to ruin. It was nothing like it used to be. Gone were the clean stone walls and well kept gardens; stone blackened with grime, gardens overgrown with weeds. The men were quiet as they followed Merlin through the ruins. The land still responded to her, the walls cleaned themselves as she strode past, weeds retreating and dead leaves vanishing. Chunks of stone made their way home as the walls began rebuilding themselves. The men watched in wonderment.

“What’s happening?”

“I’m a High Priestess, the Isle is merely responding to my presence.” Merlin turned into an open courtyard, something roared vengefully above them. Drawing their swords, the knights shifted uneasily at the noise, searching the sky. 

“What is that?” Leon asked, shuffling around with his sword.

Merlin looked to the sky and watched a shadow move through the mist. “Wyverns.”

A clattering of loose stone had everyone glancing upward, where a hissing wyvern was perched and eyeing them hungrily. Another one circled in the sky until coming to a perch on the other side of them. There was a brief stalemate, broken when one of the wyverns dropped into a dive, screeching as it javelined toward them. Merlin broke from the protective circle the knights had made around her and locked eyes with the wyverns.

“S'enthend' apokhorein nun epitello!” The wyvern back-winged to stop it’s descent and roared angrily as it turned around and disappeared into the fog, it’s partner following closely behind. “Come on.” She said, striding forward with a string of baffled knights at her back.

“See? That’s how you deal with them.” Gwaine chirped.

Arthur turned around, “Shut up, Gwaine.”

“Usually the Blood Guard keep the wyverns at bay, but since they’re all dead now I guess the beasts made a nest here.” Everyone followed Merlin as she navigated the corridors toward the ceremonial chambers. It was a large room, with a stone altar standing proudly in the middle. There was still a blood stain on it and somehow, Merlin could tell it was Morgause that gave her life here. Beyond the altar, a huge undulating tear. Black and endless, a billowing abomination that didn’t belong in this world. Souls screamed beyond the dark expanse.

“It is not often we have visitors.” The Cailleach, standing guard to her realm. 

Arthur stepped forward. “I demand you heal the tear between the two worlds.”

“It was not I who created this horror, why should it be I that stops it.”

“Because innocent people are dying.”

“Indeed.” The Cailleach cackled maniacally, happy to be snatching souls for herself.

“I know what you want.”

“Do you? And are you willing to let me have it?” Before an answer could be given, Merlin was pulling Arthur back and gliding forward herself. With gold sparking in her eyes, she approached the gatekeeper.

“So, Emrys, you chose to challenge me after all.” They circled each other around the altar. “Will you give yourself to the spirits to save your prince?”

“It is my destiny.”

“Perhaps.” They stopped circling to face each other, the altar a barrier between them. “But your time among men is not yet over, Emrys, even if you want it to be.”

Thunder rumbles from within the tear and the Cailleach turns toward it. When Merlin follows her gaze, she finds Lancelot standing on the precipice of their world. He looks tiny next to the tear, but he turns and gives her a smile, unafraid.

“No!” The veil flickers as he steps into the dark abyss, coruscating as it sealed itself shut. Merlin falls to her knees and sobs. “N-No.”

\- -

They hold a vigil for him when they return. A fire is built in the courtyard, wood stacked high and all the knights gathered to pay tribute. Gwen stands beside Leon, shaking with sobs as Arthur speaks.

“I want to pay tribute to Sir Lancelot. We owe him a great debt. But it is not just his deed that we’ll never forget - it is his courage, his compassion, his unselfish heart. He was the most noble knight I’ll ever know. He gave his life for all of us.”

Merlin felt tears streaking down her face as he spoke, overwhelmed with sorrow. Arthur dropped a torch onto the wood, and through the flames, Merlin saw his cape, his sword. And she cried openly, not afraid of looking vulnerable. Arthur gripped her hand and squeezed.

Merlin stayed until the last flame went out, long after everyone else had left. 

\- - 

It was Arthur’s 25th birthday, and preparations were being made for a celebration. Merlin was in charge of organising the feast and everyone was happy to follow her lead. Cook had cultivated a wonderful menu, and the banquet hall was currently being spruced up in preparation. Merlin was up in Arthur’s chambers putting together his outfit for tonight, when a raucous came in through the open window. Abandoning the wardrobe, Merlin flew over to see the entertainment arriving. People cheered as the horse-pulled caravan wheeled into the courtyard, the performers tossing colourful confetti into the air and presenting themselves theatrically. As they unloaded, the acrobats flipped into the air.

“Oh! Did you see that?”

Arthur appeared at her shoulder and poked his head out, droning in a very unimpressed manner, “It’s a man throwing sticks in the air.”

Merlin leant away from the window and turned inward, raising her brows as Arthur frowned down at a handful of parchments.

“What’s wrong?” She teased. “It’s your birthday! A huge feast is being held in your honour, you’ve got dancers, jugglers and acrobats to entertain you.”

Arthur walk away from her with a dramatic sigh. She followed. 

“It must be a terrible burden.”

“Perhaps I’m less easily impressed than you.” Arthur droned.

“I’m really looking forward to it.”

“Yes, because you have the mind of a child.” Merlin scoffed.

“And yet I’m still more intelligent than you.”

“Don’t you have something else to be doing?” Merlin giggled and stood in front of him, clasping his forearms when his hands came to rest upon her waist. 

“Nothing that’s more fun than annoying you.” She rose to her toes and smacked a kiss onto his nose, Arthur scrunched his face indignantly. Then she swept out of the room to escape his ire, and Arthur watched the delicate swish of her blue dress. 

\- - 

The feast was indeed grand and the entertainment she’d hired did a spectacular job. Even Uther was in attendance, his hair longer but just having him there was gift enough to Arthur. There was jesters and fire blowing and dancing. Merlin loved the dancing, everyone cheered as Arthur spun her around the room with a ridiculous smile on his face. It was hard not to smile, his father was in good spirits and Merlin looked spectacular. Arthur felt like the luckiest man in the world. Even if he did have knives thrown at him and an odd-tasting apple shoved into his mouth. Later, as he and Merlin walked back to his chambers, Arthur found himself without inhibitions. Must’ve been the wine.

“You’re telling me you weren’t even a little bit scared?”

Arthur whipped his belt off as he stumbled inside. Merlin pressed the door closed and sparked the candles awake.

“Course not, I’m a warrior! You learn to control your fear, to channel it.” Arthur walked into a pillar and stumbled back into Merlin, who righted him with a snort of derision.

“You looked scared.” She leant against the offending pillar and watched in amusement as Arthur tried to undress himself.

“It was good to see my father enjoying himself.” He gave up trying to take his boot off and plopped onto the mattress. “He looked a little quiet towards the end there. Perhaps I should go see him.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? You can barely stand up.” Arthur shuffled passed her.

“Are you saying I’m drunk?” He sounded adorably offended.

“No. I’m just saying I don’t think you should be wandering around the palace.”

“And why is that?” He asked petulantly.

Merlin smothered a laugh. “You’re not wearing any trousers.”

Arthur was silent for a beat, pouting as he thought about it. “Good point.”

He pulled them up, tripping as he did so, and then he was scuffing out of the room. Merlin chuckled at his drunken antics and started divesting her clothes. She hardly ever slept in her own chambers anymore. A spur of magic had the hearth blazing and the curtains whooshing closed. She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. 

\- - 

Merlin woke alone, the sheets beside her cold and unused. She dressed languidly and left Arthur’s rooms. A passing servant had her hiking up her skirts and running to the king’s chambers. She found Arthur, along with Gaius. Their eyes met, Arthur buried his face into her shoulder. Merlin pressed a smattering of kisses to his shoulder, not sure she could bring the comforted he needed.

“What’s happened?”

“An assassin tried to kill me last night, my father saved my life.”

“The blade pierced his heart.” Gaius said. “He’s bleeding inside. I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time.”

\- - 

The assassin was traced to Wenham, an unremarkable town in Odin’s land. It was the second hit King Odin had ordered on Arthur, the man was mad with grief over his son’s death. A day passed and Uther bared no signs of improvement. Arthur vanished after council and forewent lunch. Merlin found him watching over his father with red rimmed eyes, looking for all the world like a broken child. She approached the ailing king and pulled back his shirt to see the wound. No better, no worse. Gaius had left a cloth and water on the bedside. Merlin cleaned up Uther’s face, wiped the sweat from his brow.

“I appreciate your kindness, everything you’re doing for him.” Arthur happened to know that Merlin had been tending to his father all day.

“Oh, Arthur.” Replacing the cloth in the water, she moved around the bed until she was at his side. It was quiet obvious he was battling tears.

“I can’t watch him die.”

Merlin rubbed his arm in a way she hoped was comforting and Arthur’s hand came to rest over hers when she stopped. His jaw was clenching fitfully to keep the emotions at bay but Merlin wished he’d just allow himself reprieve from being strong.

“He cannot die.”

“I know, love.”

\- - 

Long after sunset, Arthur returned to his own chambers. Merlin was leaning in the window nook, gazing out at something. She looked sad but didn’t seem to notice his arrival, only meeting his eyes when he came to stand beside her. Outside, hundreds of people had gathered in the courtyard and each of them held a single candle.

“It’s a vigil for your father. The people wish to share their grief.”

“Why are they behaving like he’s already dead when there is still life in his body?”

“They’re preparing themselves for the worst.”

“They can give up hope, but I won’t.”

“Arthur…” He hated the pity in her eyes. “I know it’s hard to accept, I wish it wasn’t so, but there really is nothing that can be done.”

Arthur looked outside as he reached between them to envelope Merlin’s hand. “There is a way to heal my father.”

“How?” She asked, knitting her brows together and searching his face.

“With magic.”

Merlin pulled her hand away, head shaking. Arthur followed every movement patiently. “Arthur…perhaps it is his time.”

“Please, Merlin.” She shook her head again and Arthur caught her chin with her fingers, gently tilting it upward so that he could see her eyes. In them, uncertainty. “If you were me…and it was your father, would you use magic to save his life.”

“Yes. I would do whatever it took.”

“Then I ask you, will you help me save mine?”

“I’ve never been any good at healing magic, there’s no guarantee that-“

“Please?” Merlin stopped short at the plea and were it not for Arthur fingers at her face, she would have turned away from his pained blue eyes and the desperate wetness they held.

“Okay.” She whispered. “Okay.”

“Thank you, Merlin. This means more to me than you know.” Arthur gifted a kiss, drawing her into a tight embrace.

“Uther will not thank me for using magic to save him.”

“I give you my solemn word that when I am king, things will be different. You won’t have to live in fear.”

\- - 

“Efencume…ætgædre, eala gastas cræft ige, gestrice þis lic forod.” The spell was incanted in a low voice. Thick wisps of smoke curled into the air as Merlin wafts a sprig of rosemary over Uther’s face. The room is flooded with herbaceous redolence as the spell takes hold. Merlin waits, worry seizing the breath in her lungs as she chews habitually on her lip. Uther gasps awake, eyes alight with a clarity that's been missing since Morgana’s betrayal. There’s colour flushing his face and he draws breath with ease. Merlin notches away from the king’s bed to lean back against the dresser.

“Father.”

“Arthur.” It’s said with a genuine smile and the childlike joy that floods Arthur’s face makes the risk worth it. There’s an unrestrained grin on his face, but it twitches away as Uther releases a pained groan.

“What’s happening?” 

“I don’t know.” Uther’s struggling for breath now, rasping pulls that sound akin to a death rattle. 

“Do something!” Arthur yells, leaning over Uther’s body with his fists bunching the sheets. Merlin had no idea what to do, the spell was working, he was healing. She’d done everything right. Uther let go of his last breath and stared unseeingly at the bed canopy. Merlin tentatively searched for a heartbeat but it evaded her. 

“He’s dead.”

“No. He can’t be.” Arthur gripped Uther’s shoulder and jostled him. “Father. Father!”

Guilt snakes around her heart, constricting to the point she fears it’ll stop. Arthur is shattered, devastated beyond belief. He lurches away from the bed and the body within it, can’t stand the thought that it’s a corpse now. Anger seems to overpower everything else, he’s brimming with it and he knows it’s not Merlin’s fault but she’s the only other person here and he needs someone to blame. 

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” She says weakly, looking just as destroyed as he feels but Arthur doesn’t care.

“You killed him.”

“No…”

She’s visibly upset and for some reason it only makes him angrier. Every wild beat of his heart sends a powerful pulse of ire through him. He’s in Merlin’s face now and he’s not thinking when he pulls free his sword.

“You killed him!”

“No!” She looks frightened as he holds the sword.

“My father spent 20 years fighting magic, to think I knew better. I never should have trusted you with his life, you’re just like the rest of them!.”

Arthur knows he’s being cruel, but he can’t think past the grief. Merlin looks stricken, the tears in her waterline glassing her eyes, the lucky ones that escaped mirrored the salty moisture on his own cheeks. She reaches out for him, but thinks twice and drops her arm. A wet sniff, then she’s leaving him alone with his father but his solitude is short lived because Gaius is shuffling in and addressing the body. Arthur doesn’t watch, he doesn’t leave either. Gaius shows him a necklace, says that it’s enchanted and that someone put it around Uther’s neck.

“Such an enchantment would reverse the effect of any healing magic.”

It makes him feel horrible. He could see Morgana’s hand in this, though God knows how she’d gotten into the castle in the first place. Merlin had only done what he’d asked and he he’d accused her of murder. Repaid her kindness by making her cry. Night fell and it seemed darker than normal. The storm that had been brewing since early that afternoon had finally beset the castle and sodden clouds watered the kingdom. Thunder purred through the sky and rain mottled the windows as he walked the halls toward the cathedral, where Uther’s groomed body was prepared. 

\- - 

Arthur mourned until beams of daylight streamed through the windows. A departing kiss was dropped to Uther’s head, then Arthur was gripping the door handles and leaving princeship behind. The doors opened to reveal Merlin, propped against the wall with her head turned away. The blanket of her dress crinkled against the floor, she didn’t seem to notice the doors opening, nor Arthur’s eyes upon her.

“Merlin. It’s a new day.” She looks to the windows behind him and the daylight they exhibit. Her joints protest as she stands and tresses of hair fall over her shoulders. Arthur looks concerned when he asks: “Have you been there all night?”

“I didn’t want you to feel that you were alone.”

Arthur moves out of the doorway, turns to give his father one last glance, and pushes the door closed. Inhaling as he turns, Arthur contemplates Merlin’s tired eyes.

“You must be hungry.”

“Starving.”

“Me too.” His lips curl into an imperceptible smile and Merlin returns it. She recognised the apology for what it was. Arthur offers his hand. “Come on, let’s have some breakfast.”

\- - 

“Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the peoples of Camelot according to their respective laws and customs?”

“I solemnly sweat so to do.”

“Will you, to your power, cause law and justice, in mercy, to be executed in all your judgements?”

“I will.”

“Then by the sacred law vested in me, I crown you, Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot.”

He looked breathtaking in the crown. Merlin stood in the front row with a joyful smile, heart-bursting with pride as a cheer of rang out across the room. As the people chanted, Arthur only had eyes for her.

“Long live the King!”

“Long live the King!”

“Long live the King!”

\- - 

The weeks that followed Arthur’s coronation were rife with the meetings typical of a kingdom’s overture. Most of their time was spent attending council and smoothing out the details. Emissaries were dispatched to the allied kingdoms with news of Arthur’s rule and the entirety were received positively. It would seem all of Albion had grown tired of Uther. All things considered, Arthur had a very pliant introduction to kingship. He opted to remain in his chambers and had Uther’s sealed up, much like Ygraine’s had been all those years ago. The torrent of council meetings had birthed a stubborn knot into his shoulders that often left him sore. A perdurable throb made a nest behind his eyes and were it not for Merlin, Arthur thinks he might’ve gone half mad from stress by now. A constant pillar of support that persuaded him to bed when he’d been glued to his desk for hours on end.

It’s almost…peaceful.

Then a man, Julius Borden, arrives in Camelot seeking access to the vaults beneath the castle, where he postulates one third of an ancient key is being held. The Triskelion of Ashkanar. A fabled legend, it had been Merlin’s favourite bedtime story as a girl and knowing her heritage, it was no wonder her father enjoyed telling it so much. The tomb of Ashkanar possessed a dragon egg, hidden for over 400 years. Borden’s cultivation of the key could bring back the dragons, but Gaius adamantly rejected him. Furthermore, he _forbade_ her from retrieving the egg, like she was a child. 

Merlin had never been one to follow orders so she helped Borden weasel into the vaults but he betrayed her. An obnoxious pealing of warning bells woke her from a forced slumber where she lay sprawled on the ground. She hastened to make herself scarce and managed to intercept Arthur as he stomped to the vaults with his advisors flanking him obediently.

“The lock hasn’t been damaged, which would suggest whoever it was, they had a key” Agravaine deducted snootily.

“Strange.” Gaius gave her a sideways glance, eyebrow of doom rearing. Arthur displayed an ornate golden box, void of its contents. It held only the blue velvet lining.

“With all these treasures, this is all they were interest in. What was in here?”

“I believe, sire, one third of a triskelion.” Gaius levels her with a glare. “A type of key that, according to legend, opens to ancient tomb of Ashkanar.”

“I remember my father spoke of such a tomb. It contained a dragon’s egg.”

“That is the legend.”

“You don’t believe it to be true?” Merlin enquired.

Gaius contemplated her. “Well, it is possible, the wealth and wisdom of Ashkanar are without equal.”

“Is the egg still there?” She probably sounds far too eager so Merlin attempts to smooth her features into indifference. Agravaine, after all, remains unaware of her powers.

“I can’t be certain. To my knowledge, no one has disturbed the tomb for more than 400 years.”

Arthur’s brows twitch into a frown. “But with this triskelion, someone could?”

“Sire,” Agravaine comments. “A dragon’s egg can live for a thousand years. Even today, it could still hatch, and another dragon can be born into this world.”

\- - 

Merlin accosts him during dinner, downing her wine in one go and smacking her lips wetly. Arthur eyes her dubiously. “Please tell me you aren’t actually going to destroy the egg.”

“It would be safer for the kingdom to be rid of it.”

“How can you say that?” She disregards the food, letting a belligerent frown settle between her brows as she attempts to quell the irritation simmering beneath her skin.

“A dragon attack nearly destroyed the kingdom. I cannot risk that happening again.”

“Yes, _nearly_ destroyed the kingdom because I’m a Dragonlord. It is my sacred responsibility to protect that egg, I won’t let you kill it.”

“I’m the king, Merlin. I have to do what’s right by the kingdom, I understand that you’re upset about this but-“

“You’ll chose your next words carefully, sire. You may be king but I have a duty to the dragons, you cannot stop me from following my birthright.”

Arthur’s jaw twitched as they stared each other down. He understands duty more than anyone so it’s with a defeated sigh that Arthur reaches over the table to cover her hand.

“Can you promise me that this…dragon, will not bring terror to Camelot?”

“On my father’s life.”

“Then, we will retrieve this egg, together.”

\- - 

The knights came along, two days of tracking Borden’s trail through the damp woods. The dew that flocks under the moon refuses to evaporate once the sun arrives, often leaving the ground musty and damp. It works in their favour thought because the eidetic memory of the sodden dirt displays crisp hoof prints, easy to follow. Tracks take them east, toward the gaping mouth of a cave. The rocks are sharp and thirsty for blood, a stream braves into the depths, stagnant and discoloured. It appears to be a dead end, but Merlin leads them into the dark expanse anyway.

They walk until the shadows abate, shrinking away from the light up ahead. It bounces off the stream and paints a blue mirage upon the cave’s roof. As they traipse onward, daylight gleams through the grumbling waterfall. They emerge sopping beyond the water into a lush thatch of forest. A beaten dirt path snakes down through the trees and the forest spits them out onto a meadow. Vast plains of grass comfort the rolling rills before them and there’s a river of pine trees flowing down into the gully, where a proud tower reaches for the clouds.

“There it is.” Merlin wonders aloud, awestruck. 

“We’ll make camp, continue at dawn.” Arthur decrees once they've convered half the pine forest. The knights sharpen their swords and scoff down the stew she prepares. Appetite evades her, so while they’re inhaling dinner she ventures near by to collect more firewood. The knights were all asleep when she returned.

“Typical.”

Merlin skitters around the sleeping bodies to gather dishes. When she’s scraping the remnants from the pot, a sauce-covered cloth pouch raises her hackles and she sniffs it cautiously. Mugwort and valerian, a powerful sedation compound that is fatal in too high a dose. She realises belatedly that the knights aren’t sleeping and their snores, actually gasping breaths. Merlin goes to Arthur first and places a hand on his chest, the other pressed into the earth to draw power. 

“Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare.” 

His breathing eases as the effects of the sedative ware away and he settles into a peaceful sleep. He would not wake for some time. Merlin made quick work of healing the other knights, one by one, until they were all cured.

She casts a protective ward over the camp and leaves to pursue Borden. She was already miffed by his disregard for the dragon but now he'd endangered the people she cared for. A nimble dash through the forest brings her to the base of the tower, it looms above her. A minor pestilence is scaling the wall and Merlin doesn’t hesitate to follow him. By the time she catches up, the key has already unlocked an ornate door and Borden is crossing the threshold.

When he does, jets of toxic gas hiss down at him and the noxious cloud conceals him from sight. Merlin can hear choking and panicked coughing over the hissing. Covering her face and extending a splayed hand, “Þrosm tohweorfe!”

The smokes shies away and slithers into hiding. A small herd of stairs beckon her through the door, where Borden’s body lay slumped against the stone wall. She doesn’t spare him a second glance as she snatches up his torch and continues into the tomb. A slanted hallway leads her into a vast chamber, in which stands a steeped pedestal. Upon it is perched a teardrop egg, pale blue and illuminated by a ray of sun. Merlin drops the torch, floats forward, and slides her fingers down the egg. It’s smoother than glass, unmarred and beautiful.

“Give it to me.”

Merlin turns, sees Borden with bulging red eyes. “It’s not your to take.”

“You give it to me, and I will grant you a half share, Merlin.”

“No, it must go free. They must be left unshackled and loose to roam the earth.”

“You can escape this meaningless court life at court.”

“It is not my life that’s pitiable, it’s yours.”

Borden stalks closer and snatches up the torch. Merlin moves protectively in front of the egg.

“ _I_ pieced together the triskelion. _I_ found the path that led us here. The dragon belongs to _me_. Now hand it over.”

“No.” Merlin already feels a bond with the egg and she’ll be damned if this loathsome man takes it. “Dragons are magical creatures, they belong to no one.”

“What do you know? You’re but a vapid woman.”

“I am the last Dragonlord, and I am warning you: leave this egg alone.” 

Borden has the grace to look intimidated, but his greed overrides reason. When she casts, her eyes sear red instead of gold and Borden is hit with a force so great every bone in his body yields. She turns and places both hands upon the egg, it warms under her touch. It’s removal triggers something and the walls rumble around her, hearty portions of stone come crashing down. Merlin didn’t waste time in teleporting herself and the egg to the woods that skirt the tower. 

\- - 

The knights all demanded to be present for the hatching, it was truly a once in a lifetime opportunity and Merlin was happy to accommodate them. It was nice that they were so ready to embrace magic. Even Arthur came. At her magic’s bidding, roots curled up from the ground and fashioned themselves into a pedestal, complete with an egg-sized dip in the top. It’s well past dusk, the moon illuminates the egg as Merlin places it onto the pedestal. White light blankets the shell beautifully, and it’s not long until Kilgharrah is landing in the clearing.

Behind her, the knights shift uneasily. Merlin steadies them with a gesture. “It’s all right.”

Kilgharrah settles his haunches onto the grass and swishes his tail in anticipation. He eyes the knights suspiciously. “Hello, young king.”

Arthur startles at the voice and clears his throat awkwardly, he waves. The egg looks tiny compared to Kilgharrah as he bows to Merlin.

“So, old friend, you are no longer the last of your kind.”

Kilgharrah chuckles throatily. “It would seem not. Thank you, young witch.”

“When will it hatch?”

“Young dragons were called into the world by the Dragonlords. Only they had the power to summon them from the egg.” The knights are quiet behind her. “As the last Dragonlord, this solemn duty falls to you, Merlin. You must give the dragon a name.”

Merlin places a steady hand over the egg and closes her eyes. She can feel the dragon, it’s vibrant and strong beneath her fingers.

“Aithusa.” A loud crack has Merlin retracting her hand. The egg wobbles as a fissure opens along the shell, punctuated cracks continue until a spidery epicentre has splintered the egg]/. A small fragment falls away, and a growled murmur follows. A determined snout emerges and shatters the top of the egg enough for a small head to poke out. It murmurs again.

“A white dragon…” Kilgharrah says in a hushed tone. “Is indeed a rare thing.”

The baby dragon snaps away more of its shelled prison. “And fitting, for in the dragon tongue, you named her after the light of the sun.”

It chippers happily as more egg fragments fall away. It has blue eyes and smooth white scales, two lithe wings spring free.

“The white dragon bodes well for Albion, for you and Arthur…” Arthur looks away from the baby dragon at the sound of his name. “…and for the land that you will build together.” 

\- - 

Months disappeared as time ticked on. Merlin had recently been placed in charge of the kingdom whilst Arthur was away on a campaign. A troupe of unbound men had been raiding the borders as of late, creeping closer to the castle. Agravaine went along with Arthur and Merlin could only hope that everything went well. _Someone_ had a bad habit of leading Arthur astray and talking him into bad decisions.

So, when the party arrived home, Merlin was not totally surprised to hear Arthur had murdered King Caerleon. An urgent council bore news of an army crossing Camelot’s border at first light and Merlin really wished Arthur would stop taking his uncle’s advice as gospel. She’d never imagined a war with Annis, a woman who had been like a second mother to her.

“At a forced march, Annis’s men will reach Camelot by sundown tomorrow. We must intercept them before they reach the Ridge of Landshire, that way, we hold the high ground.”

Merlin narrowed her eyes at the almost imperceptible smirk that Agravaine bared, oily and smug.

“The knights of Camelot make ready as I speak. We ride at dawn.”

\- - 

Merlin would not be talked out of going so she convinced Arthur to leave Agravaine behind this time. When told, the man had a combative look for her. It was a wonder Arthur couldn’t feel their distaste for one another. Their army made it to the ridge on time and Arthur, with Merlin by his side, looked out over the army that waited below them. Thousands upon thousands of men stood at the ready under Caerleon’s banner. 

“There isn’t a man among them that would not die for you. They wear the Pendragon crest with pride.”

“I’ve never once questioned their loyalty. I do wonder if I deserve it.”

“No one could care more for their men than you, Arthur. They know the decision to send them into battle wasn’t made lightly.”

“But was it the right decision?”

“If there was any other way out of this, you would take it. But you must defend Camelot.”

“I had a choice. To let Caerleon live or die…I made the wrong decision.”

Merlin turned away from the army to face him, sliding her hands into his and holding on tightly. “Arthur, no one would sacrifice more for this kingdom than you, your decision was made in the best interests of Camelot.”

“Maybe…now my men must pay for it with their lives.”

“Then perhaps, in the future you should pass judgement with your heart. Do not let other people tell you how to rule your kingdom." Merlin offered him a smile and a reassuring squeeze to his hands. Arthur had nothing further to say, so Merlin left him alone with his thoughts and retreated to the king’s tent

\- - 

“Your Highness, I know that you feel nothing but contempt for me. You feel I’ve done you a grievous wrong, and you would be right. I’m ashamed of what I did, it was cowardly, it was unjust, and I’m deeply sorry.”

“Sorry does not bring back my husband. Sorry does not give my people back their king.”

“I realise that. I know there’s nothing I can do to repair that loss.”

“Then what are you doing here, Arthur Pendragon?”

“I want to call off the battle.”

“It’s a little too late for that.”

“I don’t propose a truce, but an alternative. I invoke the right of single combat, two champions settle this matter between them.”

“And why should I grant you this favour?”

“There had been bloodshed enough already, Your Highness. Hundreds of lives will be saved this way.”

Annis said nothing.

“If not for me then Merlin, she wants peace as much as I.”

“I remember her fondly, you are close with her?”

“Very much so, she means more to me than I can say.”

“A queen?”

“That is my hope.”

“Then tell me, if it were I who killed her, would you not demand retribution?”

“Without hesitation…but I cannot send my men into battle when there is a way to avoid war.”

Annis contemplated him, sharp blue eyes boring into him. “And your terms?”

“If my man wins, you must withdraw your army.”

“And if mine is the victor?”

“Then half of all Camelot is yours.”

A beat of silence.

“Very well. You shall have your trial by combat. Announce your champion by noon tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

\- - 

Camelot’s army presented themselves proudly atop the ridge, they stretched far beyond the precipice and their numbers were mirrored below. They faced each other in deadlock. Merlin, flanked on either side by knights, gazed down on Annis wished it wasn’t so. Arthur looked so small from up here, and Annis’s behemoth of a champion dwarfed him further. Their fight was brutally paced and Arthur was put on defence from the get go. His hulking opponent unleashed a barrage of battery but Arthur was light on his feet and a lifetime of training guided him through the battle.

Something unpleasant imposed on the air, magic, corrupted and oppressive, fizzled noxiously through the air. Merlin was probably the only one that felt it. 

Morgana.

Merlin’s heart lurched as sharp eyes finally caught sight of her. Cloaked in a tattered black hood, Morgana skulked up to Annis and exchanged a word. Unease dug it’s cold fingers into Merlin’s heart as she braced herself for an attack. It was underhanded and cowardly and Arthur could no longer lift his sword. Merlin tried to think of a way to even the fight that wasn’t obvious but there was no time. Arthur was cracked in the face by the man’s knee as he tried to lift his sword. Unarmed and unprepared, Arthur was kicked in the stomach with such force it flipped him onto his back.

She acted on instinct, eyes sparking with magic to slide the man’s sword from his grasp. It gave Arthur the opening he needed, snatching up the other weapon and levelling the mountain-man swiftly.

He raised the weapon, pausing to look up the ridge. Arthur sought Merlin from the sea of red and silver. She has been his sense of right an wrong, his light amidst a unceasing parade of cruelty and selfishness from others. Whenever Arthur questions himself, cannot trust himself to make a decision; he can trust Merlin. She is a formidable woman, good and wise and honest. As he looks up into her teary eyes, Arthur knows that he will not follow the path of violence and insanity his father laid. He will be the king Merlin has alway seen; just and merciful.

Arthur plunges the sword into the earth, the war is over.

\- - 

“You are victorious, Arthur Pendragon. My army will be gone by nightfall.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Tell me something; you spared my champion. Why?”

“Because it is not victory I seek. It is peace.” Arthur looks to Merlin, a guiding light, and is grateful of her support. “Someone taught me that compassion can be a strength, perhaps more so than violence.”

Annis observes the woman beside Arthur with a familiar smile. “Yes, she always has displayed wisdom beyond her years.”

“I hope that today will mark a new beginning for our kingdoms.”

“There is something about you, Arthur Pendragon - something which gives me hope for us all.”

Annis leaves with that in the air. She feels lighter than she has since her husbands death, perhaps she had misjudged the young king. Already he has proven to be a better man than Uther, though Annis suspects that wouldn’t be so were it not for Merlin. It would seem Hunith’s daughter was setting the gears into motion for a new age of peace. 

\- - 

For three weeks Arthur had been meeting with a gaggle of women in secret. Meredith, Guinevere and Agatha. Arthur was intent of having this proposal as perfect as it could be. The first step had writing to Hunith and asking permission to marry as was respectful. That alone took a week, and another for him to receive her reply. When she wrote back, it was expressive of joy. The council of woman he’d accumulated knew Merlin well and could be relied on to provide him with honest thoughts. With their assistance, Arthur had a pretty decent plan put together within the week.

So, while Gwen kept Merlin occupied elsewhere, Arthur had Meredith and Agatha bring the supplies out to the royal gardens. The location was Gwen’s idea. Spring had finally liberated the land from winter’s icy claws and nights had lost that biting edge. The gardens were in full bloom and a cohesive sea of roses sweetened the wind. Even the willow had put out a smattering of flowers and an army of foxgloves splayed from it’s base. The night air was still enough to harbour the candles Meredith placed about. Agatha fussed pedantically over the blanket and pillows so they got rearranged more times than he cared to count. 

With everything to his satisfaction, the women scattered into the castle and left Arthur to wait. 

Merlin's led outside blindfolded by Guinevere, whose smiling stupidly as she guided Merlin toward him. Close enough, Arthur takes her hands as Guinevere removes the blindfold. Merlin gasps at the scenery and her eyes quickly abandon Arthur as she takes in the setting around her.

“Please, sit.” With her pliant hand still cushion in his, Arthur guides her down onto the blanket. 

While Arthur works through his nerves, they enjoy dinner together and it was easy to let all of his worries fall away. To forget about the duties that await him in the castle and truly relax for the first time in months, no expectations, no titles. Just Merlin and Arthur, together as they should be. Arthur steals Merlin’s hand and, with soft eyes, leads her to the bench beneath the willow. Curtained by the hanging branches and ensconced by the pliant scent of the flowers, Arthur takes a bracing breath.

“Merlin, for the last 5 years you have been a strength to me. You’ve challenged me to be a better man and taught me the value of compassion and kindness. In an endless parade of dishonesty, you’re the one person I know I can always trust. You are the strongest woman I’ve ever known; you’re brave, intelligent, loyal and everything that is right with the world, a support invaluable to me. I love you with all that I am, Merlin…I cannot think of a more capable person than you.”

Arthur slips from the bench to drop a knee, watching the widening of Merlin’s eyes as he pulls the ring free. 

“Merlin Ambrosias, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

There’s a nerve-wrecking beat of silence as Merlin covers her mouth. Then she’s nodding and Arthur’s heart feels as thought it might burst. She flings forward, arms wrapping around his neck and Arthur’s nearly knocked off balance by the force of it.

“Yes, yes.” They’re grinning like idiots. “I will marry you.”

Arthur slides the ring onto her finger, a silver band beset with diamond.

\- - 

The castle was buzzing with excitement. Servants and courtiers alike were awash with elation over the prospect of Lady Merlin assuming the throne. There is a tourney held in celebration of the engagement, Merlin perches in the royal box as jousts are held. The Knights of Camelot capture festive rings on lances and gift them to her with a flourish. The kingdom has not known such momentous joy since Uther and Ygraine were wed. The people were overjoyed to see love returning to Camelot.

Arthur had just completed his joust and was dismounting by the tents when Gwaine sauntered over, he too had done his run.

“I’ve got to hand it to you, it’s certainly an original engagement present.” He leans nonchalantly against a lance rack. “As far as romantic gestures go, you could’ve given her flowers. Instead, you’ve given her a two day parade of sweaty men.”

“Exactly as it should be. My father had a tourney before his wedding, it’s tradition.”

“Ah,” Gwaine quips, “So it’s not even an original gesture then?”

“I think my future wife understands.” Arthur gestures to where Merlin is leaning over the box to accept another ring from a grinning Percival.

“Whatever you say, princess.” 

“What would you know of romantic gestures?”

“Well-“

“Wait, stop.” Arthur holds up a hand and grimaces. “I don’t want to know.”

Gwaine cackles but keeps his escapades to himself. 

There was to be a week of celebration before the wedding, and once the engagement festivities drew to an end invites would be sent and arrangements would be made. Today was the first, a time for the knights to pay homage to their future queen and tomorrow they would joust for victory in Merlin’s name.

Arthur won, obviously.

With the tourney finished, Arthur arranged to take his betrothed for a ride through the woods. The knights accompanied them so Arthur himself could relax and enjoy the day without having to be on high alert. He still took safety precautions and opted to take a secret route that only the knights and his most trusted members of the council knew. Namely, Gaius and Agravaine.

Sun streams down through the birches, unhindered by clouds and the spring air is comfortingly tepid around them. With the season’s renewal, wildflowers littered the fresh undergrowth and timidly offer aroma. Arthur couldn’t think of a more perfect day.

So, of course, a discordance of shouts heralded a plethora of mercenaries. 

“Protect the future queen!” He shouts as he dismounts and flies into battle. To her credit, Merlin remains calm and begins picking off some of the assailants and, on more than one occasion, saving the hides of the knights. A man astride a horse pelts full speed toward Arthur’s back and Merlin is divorcing herself from Ronin and thrusting out her hand. The man is dislodged from the saddle and dragged brutally along the floor. She’d been so occupied protecting Arthur she'd failed to notice the horses coming up behind her. Merlin turns, but it’s too late, a swinging mace connects with her shoulder.

She presses a hand against the pain, the force of impact sends her stumbling down into the dirt. Arthur calls her name but it’s muffled almost beyond comprehension as she drifts into darkness.

\- - 

Merlin is forced awake by a surge of water, icy and jarring and she gasps against it. 

“Good morning.” Morgana purrs.

“Is it?”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” She mocks. “We’ve a lot of catching up to do. After all, I haven’t seen you since you condemned my sister to a slow and painful death, thwarted my plans to take over Camelot and forced me to live in a hovel.”

“I hold no remorse for that, I can die happy knowing Arthur holds the throne.”

“You’re not going to die, oh, no. I’m not going to make it that easy.”

“Is that so?”

Morgana hums. “I hear you’ve intentions to take my throne.” She says it casually as she dabs a cool cloth over the open flesh of her shoulder. Merlin ignores the comment.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ve never seen Gaius clean a wound?”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

“Well, if you’re to to my bidding…I’ll need you alive.

\- - 

Two days disappear and Arthur finds himself ridiculously antsy. He’s snappy and combative with everyone and each day that passes by without result only sours his disposition. On the third night, when he’s presiding over council, the latest patrol returns.

“We have scoured the forest.” Agravaine.

“Scour it again.”

“Sire,” Leon begins tentatively. “There is no sign of Lady Merlin.”

Agravaine circles the long table, “None but this.” It’s a scrap of green cloth, dirty and torn but Arthur would recognise the rich fabric anywhere, a tatter of Merlin’s dress. He lifts it from the map his uncle placed it on and fingers it. This doesn’t bode well in the slightest.

“I’m sorry you’ve lost such an important-“ Arthur raises a hand, lips pressed into grim line and Agravaine wisely shuts his mouth at the gesture.

“The mercenaries…what news of them?”

“We found no trace.” Leon says.

Agravaine pips up, “Probably sent by that snake Alinor.”

“It can’t be. How?” Arthur wonders aloud. “Our route was known only to a few within Camelot.”

“Then there’s only one conclusion we can draw.” Prefaces Leon. “We have a traitor in our midst.” A tense hush falls over the room, members of the council looking amongst themselves suspiciously. Beside him, his uncle looked pinched.

\- - 

Arthur clasps his cloak as he bounds down the steps toward his horse. Agravaine is hot on his heel and has been badgering Arthur to stay in Camelot all morning. “I’m as worried about Merlin as you are, sire, but-“

“You’re not going to change my mind.”

“Who knows if the mercenaries have left the forest?”

“I have to go.”

“The patrols found no sign of him.” Arthur was starting to pique at his uncle’s persistence, a guard holds Hengroen’s reigns as he finally faces the man. 

“Do you really expect me to accept that - just to sit here and take their word that Merlin’s gone? She’s to be my wife, uncle, I won’t rest until I find her.”

Agravaine smiles then, but it’s tight and forced. “Of course, of course, forgive me. Perhaps it would be wise to take company.”

“He won’t be alone.” Gwaine says, pulling his own horse up beside Arthur’s. A good man for the job, one equally as devoted to Merlin. They take off together and canter through the woods, for hours there’s nothing, but something snaps a twig up ahead. 

They stop to dismount and approach with caution. “Declare yourself!” Arthur demands.

A figure emerges, caked so thickly with grime and mud they’re almost unidentifiable. But as soon as they turn around, Arthur recognises the eyes. The green of her dress isn’t visible at all through the dirt and her skin is crusted with mud, face streaked by it but it’s her. 

“Merlin!” She laughs and it’s the most beautiful sound in the world. Arthur jogs forward showing no regard for the filth as he pulls her into a tight hug. Words cannot describe the sheer relief he feels, he’d feared he’s never be able to hold her again. “I thought I’d lost you.”

\- - 

Gaius hugs her when she enters his chambers and Merlin manages a smile. “Don’t do that again, Merlin. My heart cannot take the strain.”

“Yes, well, you are getting on a bit.” Gaius looks incredulous as Merlin pats him on the shoulder.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What is the strongest poison that you possess?”

“What need would you have for such a thing?”

“I hardly have to explain myself to you, physician, I am your future queen.”

Gaius gapes, “Well…that would be aconite.”

“Excellent.” She smiles again and starts searching his cabinets, humming when she finds the substance. “I’ll take it with me then, you never know when you might need to kill someone.”

Merlin looks him up and down expectantly and Gaius stutters into a bow, deeply confused by the interaction. Satisfying by the deference, Merlin starts for the door, aconite in hand. It’s nearly lunch time, so Merlin ventures to the kitchens and tosses a haphazard plate of food together before lathering it with a generous dose of poison. She makes for Arthur’s chambers but is set back on account of Gwaine being a bottomless pit.

“Ah, Merlin.” He bites off his gloves and makes an attempt at the food. Merlin evades him.

“This is for Arthur and is not meant to be soiled by your filthy fingers.”

“Ah, come on, just a nibble.”

“Have you mead in your ears?” Gwaine frowns and pouts. “Why don’t you go roll around in the tavern and get out of my way.”

Merlin stalks around him and resumes her mission. Gwaine watches her go, bewildered, he’s never known Merlin to be so waspish and testy. Something didn’t sit quite right with him after the encounter. Merlin, not one to be dissuaded, makes it to Arthur’s chamber only to find Gwen dropping off a platter of food and pouring Arthur a drink. They both smile when she enters the room but Merlin scowls. “Oh, I might have known.”

“Merlin!” Gwen exclaims. “I was so relieved when they found you.”

“I’m _sure_ you were.” She strides further into the room. “What’s this?”

“Uh, lunch.” Arthur says, looking lost. 

Merlin glowers at Gwen. “Look, I know you used to have a bit of a _thing_ for him, but if you don’t mind, this is getting ridiculous.”

“Merlin, is something wrong?” Arthur asks.

“This is what’s wrong.” She points firmly at the spread of food.

“I was just trying to help…I thought you needed some rest.”

“Rest? From what, being with Arthur? He’s my fiancé, not yours, or maybe you’d like to pour his bathwater next.”

“Merlin, relax, Guinevere only wanted to help. I think this is all just a simple misunderstanding.”

“Yes, you would take her side, wouldn’t you? I’m gone for a few days and suddenly there’s another woman.”

“Excuse me?” Arthur says, utterly bewildered. “I think you need some rest, love.”

“I don’t _need rest_ , I just want to resume normalcy.”

“Right…I still think-“

“Well, don’t think too hard, Arthur, you’ll hurt yourself.” Frustrated at being thwarted, Merlin turns sharply and departs from the room. Perhaps a more…direct approach was needed. Merlin spared no one a glance as she traversed the castle. Several courtiers and even some servants attempted to entice her into conversation but she waved them all away, not even the slightest bit interested in wasting her time. At long last, she arrived in the armoury, where she found Leon tending his sword.

“Merlin, it’s good to see you safely back in Camelot.”

“Mm, yes, lucky you.”

Leon blinks and clears his throat. “What brings you down here?”

“I require a crossbow.” She says airily, picking up a rickety one from the nearest rack.

“That one’s ancient.” Leon remarks. “Probably wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Merlin disregards the decrepit old crossbow and turns curiously to Leon. “If you did want to hurt a fly, or even a human, what would you use?” She asks casually.

Leon abandons his sword on a rack and relocates to the other side of the room. “You would use a thing of beauty like this.” Merlin follows him with a simpering smile. “Carved from 50 year old ash.”

Leon passes the crossbow to her and Merlin tests the weight of it with a pleased smile. She tosses it lightly and a bolt loosens through the air and obliterates a barrel.

“Oo!”

“Will that do the job?”

“Oh, yes. That will do the job nicely.”

“What is the job exactly?”

“To kill Arthur.”

“Driving you mad, is he?”

“Not for much longer.” She laughs cheekily and Leon wheezes out his own laugh.

Merlin manages 4 attempts on Arthur’s life before Gaius and Gwen team up to stop her. Now, Merlin may have been a shoddy assassin but she was one hell of aN evader. They ended up employing Arthur’s help in subduing her before it was too late. Merlin laid before them now on the patient cot in Gaius’s chambers. They were all staring down at the writhing lump on the back of her neck, no bigger than Arthur’s thumb. The dark scales of the creature were unnervingly visible beneath the veil of her skin.

“So let me get this straight…” Arthur begins. “Merlin wants to kill me because she’s under the influence of a mind-controlling, seven-headed serpent and if you kill one head, another grows in its place?”

“I’ve heard such stories in the past, but never thought they were true.”

“And this…creature you speak of, a Fomorroh?”

Yes, sire, creatures of dark magic.” Gaius dabs a damp poultice against Merlin’s neck, leaving a sheen of moisture on her skin. “There, that will silence it for a while.”

Gaius places a smoking compound under Merlin’s nose, opaque wisps of vapour curl around her face and her lashes flutter against it. Then she’s coughing and shooting up off the cot to escape the smell. “Gods, what are you trying to do to me?”

“Trying to stop you from killing the king.” 

“Excuse me?” Merlin looks between them in confusion.

“You don’t remember anything?” Gwen tries, Merlin shakes her head.

“I remember Morgana.”

“Morgana?” Arthur pipes up, disbelieving.

“Yes, she was the one who took me. I remember her conjuring the snake - Fomorroh, but…nothing more.”

“The serpent is dormant for now.” Gaius says. “But when it wake, your mind will be Morgana’s once more.”

“I must kill the mother beast. How long have I got before this wakes up?” Merlin gestures to the back of her neck, where Gwen is still staring.

“A day, no more.”

“Brilliant. I’ll leave at first light.”

“I’m coming with you.” Arthur states in a tone that warrants no argument.

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m the king, Merlin, you can’t tell me what to do.”

“Mm, I’m your fiancé so I kind of can. Stay put, I can handle Morgana.”

\- - 

Merlin has a vague, choppy memory of the route taken to Morgana’s hut, but it proves fruitful. She stays low, peering cautiously over the shallow ridge as Morgana emerges into daylight. Merlin counts to 100 before skidding down the slope, checking left then right and stealing into the dim hut.

It’s brimming with knick-knacks and an array of selves bare miscellaneous objects. Merlin forages the hovel meticulously, wading through the jars and opening barrels and lifting cloths until one of them reveals her target. The Fomorroh hisses wetly from it’s turkey watered refuge and Merlin removes the hefty jar from it’s place. As she does so, the door creaks open and Morgana returns with her bounty of firewood. A tense beat of silence passes as they stare each other down, Morgana sneers viciously and raises her arm to cast but Merlin beats her to it.

Morgana hurtles through the air until she collides roughly with a stack of shelves and Merlin uses the distraction to leave. With the jar clutched firmly in her hands, Merlin vanishes. Once she’s confident in the distance between her and Morgana, Merlin puts together a small fire and sits beside it. Hesitantly, she removes the cloth covering of the jar. The mother beast rears angrily and hisses so Merlin lurches it into the flames. It screeches upon entry.

Merlin hovers her hand over the fire. “Ontende þisne wyrm þæt he licgeþ unastyred a butan ende.”

The Fomorroh screeches again but this time in death.

\- - 

Despite delay from Merlin’s absence, the wedding went forward as planned. The emissaries that dispatched invites return with guests in tow. Elena and Godwyn were here, as was King Olaf but thankfully he left Vivian at home. 

Servants skittered around the throne room frantically to prepare for the ceremony. Flowers were meticulously arranged throughout the room, white belladonna lilies and dahlias were mixed with pink roses and they lined the red carpet aisle. Ornamental candelabras stood beside the thrones, which had been dusted and cleaned until the rich, red velvet was bold and striking against the golden metalwork. The attendants were abuzz with the excitement of a royal wedding and outside, people had gathered from far and wide, squished into the courtyard just to be present. 

Arthur was waiting on the throne’s dias, ceremonial armour glinting proudly in the sunlight that streamed through the windows. His golden crown had been polished to within an inch of its life and was heavy atop his head. A deep Pendragon cape was clasped securely around his shoulders and he smiled stupidly at the knights in the front row.

Up in her rooms, Merlin was being fussed over pedantically. Hunith had arrived the day prior with a smile like the sun and promptly crushed Merlin in a hug. Now, she was fiddling with Merlin’s hair. Gwen tightened the endless laces at the back of the clean, white dress as Meredith smudges something around her eyes. Merlin blinks when she’s done, eyes chalky. Gwen tugs the last rung of laces and knots it together. Hunith finally finishes the braids she’d been crafting and slots a decorative hair clip into place at the back. The majority of her hair twirls in thick, black locks down her back to covers the laces.

The woman step away, finished with their work and Merlin takes a nervous breath as she glides toward the mirror.

The white silk bodice cinches her waist appreciatively and pushes up her breasts before it gives way to flowing skirts. Glittery fabric overlays the comfortable linen beneath, beautiful on the outside but comfortable against her legs. It’s off-the-shoulder and an ornate band of white hugs her upper arms to connect the sleeves, sheer and flowing. Sparking diamonds adorn her neck and dangle prettily from her ears. 

“Oh, Merlin.” Hunith says tearily as she covers her mouth.

“You look so beautiful.” Gwen adds and she too had wet eyes.

“I can’t believe my baby is getting married.” Hunith gives her a careful but tight hug and sniffles. Merlin blinks rapidly to fend of her own tears. “You’re father would be so proud, sweetheart.”

“I wish he was here.”

“Me too, love, me too.” Hunith sniffs again, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief before she smiles widely, eyes brimming with love and pride. “Now, let’s get you married.”

\- - 

When the doors open and Merlin comes into view, Arthur’s breath abandons him. In all his wildest imaginations, nothing could have prepared him for the ethereal beauty walking towards him. Breathtaking. There was simply no other word for it and Arthur was the luckiest man alive to have this goddess be his wife. She’s right in front of him now and Arthur reaches for her hands to make sure this is real, that she’s real because surely he’d died and gone to heaven. But no, Merlin’s hands are soft and warm in his as Geoffrey begins the ceremony.

“My lords, ladies, and gentlemen of Camelot, we are gathered here today to celebrate, with the ancient rite of hand-fasting, the union of King Arthur Pendragon and Lady Merlin Ambrosias.”

“Is it your wish, Arthur, to become one with this woman?”

“It is.”

“Is it your wish, Merlin, to become one with this man?”

“It is.”

“Then as we gather here today, we are all witness to this rite.” Geoffrey binds their hands together first with a strip of red silk for partnership and happiness. Ivory for sincerity and devotion, and gold for unity, prosperity and longevity. He ties them all together

“With this joining of hands and the fashioning of a knot, I bind you henceforth to one another, now and forevermore.”

With their hands bound, a young serving boy dutifully shuffles forward with a tasseled pillow baring rings. They’re simple golden bands, smooth and shiny where they glint against the sunlight. On the top, a tiny Pendragon crest has been engraved. Geoffrey hands the smaller one to Arthur.

“Merlin, with this ring I pledge myself, my trust and my love to you.” Arthur slots the ring onto her slim finger and marvels at how right it looks.

Geoffrey hands the other ring to Merlin.

“Arthur, with this ring I pledge myself, my trust and my love to you.”

“Then, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you, Arthur and Merlin Pendragon, husband and wife.” 

Arthur swoops down and captures Merlin’s plush lips in a chaste kiss. When they part it is with face splitting grins, and they turn to face the court and raise their bound hands for all to see. The room erupts into cheers as Merlin and Arthur walk down the aisle and ruby red rose petals rain over them.

\- - 

Later that day, once noon had passed, the crowning ceremony was held. Arthur hadn’t bothered changing from the wedding, the only difference now was the ring around his finger. Merlin, however, had changed into a very flattering red dress. Deep scarlet velvet, smooth and accented with gold embroidery. The throne room had been stripped of wedding decorations though the fragrance of the flowers lingered pleasantly. Arthur stood alone on the dias, exuding regality as he watched Merlin proceeded toward him.

She kneels on the pillow, a cushion against the solid wood of the steps and her dress flares around her like a red sea. A servant appears at Arthur’s side with an intricate crown, golden and beset with rubies. Arthur receives it, cradling it delicately between his fingers.

“Will you promise and swear to govern the peoples of Camelot according to their respective laws and customs?”

“I solemnly promise and swear so to do.”

“Will you to your power, cause law and justice, in mercy, to be executed in all your judgements?”

“I will.”

“Will you swear to protect peace in Camelot and pledge loyalty to the king?”

“On this I swear and pledge.”

“Then by the sacred laws vested in me, I crown you, Merlin Pendragon, Queen of Camelot.”

Arthur lowers the crown onto her hair and the weight of it is surprising. The sun, beaming through the windows, glints proudly off the ornate angles of the crown. Hands empty, Arthur offers them to her and Merlin accepts. With ease, Arthur guides her up and over to his right side. They kiss without heat, slow and relaxed for all to see, eyes soft and vibrant, brimming with happiness. In unison, they turn to face the crowd with their hands clasped and elevated.

“Long live the Queen!”

“Long live the Queen!”

“Long live the Queen!”

They stand together before their people, strong and unified. Adorned in red and with glinting golden crowns upon their heads, the king and queen of Camelot were the picture of splendour and opulence. More importantly, they were radiant with true found happiness. When they stepped out onto the balcony for all to see, the people gathered in the courtyard below cheered and clapped. A sea of excitement as they waved colourful flags back and forth animatedly.

\- - 

They stumble into their chambers after the feast, warm with wine. Merlin’s hand was clasped in his and she giggled, stumbling, as Arthur piloted her to the bed. She swayed patiently as he unlaced her dress so that it could pool tiredly around her feet. A determined yank banished her shift and then she was gloriously naked before him. Arthur impatiently divested his own clothes and kicked them away as he crowded Merlin against the mattress. She sat down, pressured by Arthur’s proximity and he cradled her head, tilting it up and dropping an affectionate kiss to her forehead.

Cheeks blushed with wine, eyes dark with fire, her tongue came out to wet her lips, leaving them glistening. Her slight hands came to rest comfortably against his fine-haired thighs and she held his eyes as she bowed forward and licked a line up his cock. It twitched under the attention and Merlin followed it up by mouthing teasingly at the tip. The warmth of her mouth engulfed him in the next breath and it stuttered into his lungs. Merlin hollowed her cheeks and took him deeper, Arthur groaned and had to use every shred of self control not to thrust down her throat.

But then she was withdrawing and Arthur was growling his displeasure. Merlin bit her lip and smiled, slipping away from Arthur and taking the heat of her body with her. Arthur, not one to be discouraged, follows. He settled back onto his heels and reaches for Merlin, seizes her waist and lifts her onto his lap.

Trained coordination lets his cock slide deliciously into Merlin’s heat as he drops her down and she gasps scandalously, pupils flaring wide. Arthur was still slick from her mouth so he slid in with little resistance. Merlin’s arms slung around his neck and Arthur curled one of his own around her waist, the other hand trailing up her spine until he could thread his fingers through the soft hair at her nape.

Merlin moved her hips wantonly and Arthur answered with a sharp thrust. She moaned throatily as Arthur drove up into her, the angle letting his cock reach impossibly deep. Merlin’s moans grew steadily louder as Arthur rolled up into her over and over and sucked a bruising kiss to the curve of her jaw.

“My wife, my queen.” Arthur murmured into her neck, a kiss between titles and Merlin moaned at the sound of his voice, eyes fluttering closed as Arthur’s fingers tightened in her hair to pull her head back. Merlin was tight and wet and hot around him and Arthur rammed into her harder than before, chasing release. Merlin screamed her own release when Arthur bit down on her shoulder on a thrust and she tightened ridiculously around him.

“My husband, my king.” The words were whispered next to his ear with reverence, a parody of his own words and Merlin was putty in his arms. A few more thrusts and Arthur was spilling deep inside of her, dropping his head against hers and panting breathlessly as his cock throbbed with release. They stayed wrapped around one another for a minute or so, catching their breath.

Merlin was the first to move, lifting herself up and then flopping tiredly onto her back. Her eyes flicker quickly, he’d miss it if he blinked, and Arthur rolled off the bed and strayed to the table where a pitcher of water was waiting. He poured a cup for Merlin, downing his own as he shuffled back to bed. In the brief time he was gone, Merlin had cocooned herself under the covers and burrowed into the pillows but she tilted her head up and downed the water. Arthur climbed over the blanket lump that was his wife and got under the covers, draped an arm over her waist and dragged her closer. Sleep found him easily as Merlin nestled into his side, content and warm.

\- -

There was venerated peace in Camelot following Merlin’s rise to the throne. Six whole months of prosperity, during which, they entertained guests from allied kingdoms. Peace treaties with Mercia, Caerleon, Deorham (Alined was reluctant but Merlin could be very persuasive when needed) and Norway were all steadfast. Gawant was still allied with Camelot, Merlin and Elena were fond friends. Princess Mithian of Nemeth and he father, King Rodor had also paid a visit after the wedding and Arthur surrendered Camelot’s claim to the disputed land of Gedref to secure a treaty. 

With Beltane around the corner, a grand feast was to be held in celebration. Merlin, dressed and ready to go, was idling around their chambers impatiently. She watched in amusement as Morris tried adding a hole to Arthur’s belt. They shared a secret smile as Arthur poked his head around the changing.

“What have you got there?” He asks, pointing for emphasis. Arthur struts toward them, sans pants but with chainmail long enough to cover the important bits, and takes the belt from Morris. He examines it. “Why are you putting another hole in this belt?”

“Uh…”

“He was enhancing it,” Merlin quips. “For comfort and ease of use.”

“Are you saying I’m fat?”

“No, I’m saying that the belt…” Merlin points at it. “Is one hole shy of perfection.”

“Ridiculous.” With sharp movements, Arthur whips the belt around his waist and attempts to secure it. The action is pared with grunts and whispered pleas as his face scrunches.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, a little extra padding comes with the job.” Arthur gives her a dirty look. “What, with all the feasts and banquets and ceremonies.”

“Alright, Morris, do what you have to do.” Arthur passes off the belt and then jabs a finger at Merlin, whose trying to smother a smile. “Not a word of this to anyone, understand?”

She lifts her hands innocently before hurrying him along. Hunger has settled in and Merlin would love to go downstairs and eat something to sooth her ravenous appetite. Arthur is ready eventually and together they make their way to the banquet hall, were courtiers and knights mill about with drinks in hand. Agravaine was curiously missing as everyone settled into their seats upon Merlin and Arthur’s entrance. Morris ventured over with two plates of food and placed them before the royals.

“Ah, my favourite—herb-crusted capon.”

“Easy now, we don’t want anymore holes in that belt.” Merlin teases as she cuts into the meat. To her left, Percival chokes into his drink and laughs. Arthur chuckles good-naturedly as his own goblet is filled with wine. As the meal comes to an end and servants start clearing plates away, Merlin notices that Agravaine’s chair still sits cold, unoccupied. The defending peal of the warning bells drowned out the chatter of the room and people looked around nervously, confused. Gwaine, who’d been on a patrol of the city gates, burst through the doors. 

“Sire, we’re under attack! They’re within the city walls.” 

Arthur stood quickly and unfastened his cape, Merlin began rounding everyone up and directing them to the inner chamber. The bells tolled ominously all the while and outside, people started to scream. This had to be Agravaine’s doing. Just yesterday the book keeper’s apprentice was found dead with a message from Odin tucked away in his vest. The death was suspicious and Merlin suspected Agravaine of being involved but Arthur wouldn’t listen to reason where his dear uncle was concerned.

The castle became a hive of activity in light of this attack. The lower town was alight with flames and knights were dispatched to put out the fires, defend the area. It was lost sooner than they would’ve liked. Merlin roamed the halls, blasting those who didn’t belong back against walls and pillars until their necks snapped. She examined the bodies, no armour, no crest and adored in leather and rags, they had to be Southrons. In a council meeting a few months back, reports came in of a new warlord rising to power in the south and if memory serves, his name was Helios and it would seem he’s been amassing an army.

Merlin ventured to the infirmary. Gaius was tending to a young knight when she found him. He looks up at her presence. “How did this happen? How did they get in without being detected?”

“We knew Agravaine was planning something.”

“It seems your worst fears have been realised, Merlin.”

“I’ve got to find Arthur.” 

Merlin leaves in a hurry, despite Gaius’s pleas for her to remain where it was safe. She’d be damned if she left her husband to fight alone, not when she was Camelot’s best defence. Merlin flew through corridors and ignored the bodies littered throughout until she heard swords clanging and men yelling. It was Arthur, fending off three men and Merlin was concerned to see blood shining his chainmail. A concussive blast dispatched the assailants and Arthur’s eyes widened comically at the sight of her.

“Merlin! What do you think you’re doing out here?”

“You’re welcome.” She snipped testily. “Are you wounded?”

“It’s a scratch,” He said dismissively. “You need to get out of here, it’s not safe.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Merlin follows Arthur has he moves through the smoke ridden hallways, slinking in from open windows. Arthur was tense and quiet as they travelled, shoulders rigid and a firm hand pressed against his bloodied side. They made it to an outdoor hallway, where the smoke was thick and stifling.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Arthur said grittily but the pained grunt when he leant against a pillar said otherwise. “Maybe a broken rib or two.”

Merlin tutted from behind him and was about the say something snarky when she noticed that Arthur had grown very still. She followed his gaze around the stone pillar and squinted against the smoke. Morgana strode beside a man, probably Helios, with a throng of Southrons at her back. Among the herd, a man pushed forward and drew his sword as he sided up to Morgana. Merlin sneered. Arthur saw him too and he leaned back in defeat.

“Agravaine.” 

Merlin held her tongue because an _I told you so_ was the last thing Arthur needed right now. Filled to the brim with hurt and betrayal, Arthur made to surge forward but Merlin’s hand clapped against his chest argumentatively.

“Don’t. It’s no good, Arthur, there are too many of them.” Arthur’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths beneath her hand. “We can deal with your uncle later, all right?”

Arthur doesn’t say anything but he’s pliant when Merlin pushes him forward and they make it to the infirmary in record time. Arthur flops down onto a bench, panting and grimacing when Gaius probs his tender ribs. It comes as a relief to know the blood on his mail came from someone else but there was still a horrid bruise over his ribs. Merlin hovers by the door when Gwaine and Percival come in.

“How do we stand?”

“The citadel is overrun.” Percival reports grimly. “We can’t hold on much longer.”

“How long before they reach us?”

“Minutes at best.”

“They’re coming for Arthur. If they find him, they’ll kill him.”

“We must get both of you to safety while we still can.”

“I won’t abandon our people, neither will Arthur. He’d rather die.”

“You can’t stay here.”

Merlin tries to think. There might be a way to get Arthur out of here without hassle but it would require magic, a kind Merlin really wasn’t fond of. “Barricade the doors. Give us as much time as you can.”

The knights nod dutifully and get to work fortifying the door as Merlin makes her way back to Gaius and Arthur. She would get Arthur out of here, whether he likes it or not. He wouldn’t go willingly, she’d have to take his will from him. Mind magic was not something she endorsed and she hated having to use it against him but he wouldn’t listen to reason otherwise.

“I’m sorry, sire, this is gong to hurt.” Gaius warns as he prepares to bandage the ribcage. Merlin slides a hand around the back of Arthur’s head for comfort and prepares to cast.

“Just get on with it.” Arthur barks, a tormented groan coming right after as Gaius gets to work. 

Merlin closes her eyes and calls her magic forth, whispering the enchantment. “Mod wæs cræftleas.”

Arthur stops groaning and his head lolls as he blinks dumbly. His eyes have lost some of their spark and guilt settles comfortably in Merlin’s belly at the sight. The knights, having barricade to the best of their ability, approach them.

“We have to leave now, your majesties.” Percival cautions.

Arthur blinks and looks around vacantly. “Of course.” He agrees, standing up without so much as a wince, thought he sways precariously on his feet. Gwaine and Percival eye the king, slightly suspicious before their gaze slides to Merlin. She shrugs a shoulder. 

“Then let’s go.” Percival tosses Arthur’s arm over his shoulder for support and makes haste. Outside, the Southrons begin pounding against the door. “We’ll use the postern gate.”

“I’m staying here.”

“No, Merlin.” Gaius says in tone that brooks no argument. 

“I’m more useful here.” She argues anyway.

“No. You must go with Arthur, keep him safe until his strength returns.”

“But-“

“Go on.” Gwaine says, nudging her toward where Percival waits with Arthur. “I’ll keep them off your back as long as I can.”

“No, if you stay here-“

“No time to argue, sorry.” Gwaine nudges her again and smiles. Merlin spares a glance at the bowing doors before she joins Percival. If she returned and anything happened to Gwaine or Gaius…Morgana would pay with her life.

It was cold outside and the dark of night was being washed from the sky, leaving the woods grey as they ran. The floor covering grasses were damp with dew and they stuck to the dirt paths to avoid tacking a trail of bright green footprints. They ran until they could no longer hear screaming. Their breath froze in the air and Merlin could feel the chill stiffening her fingers. A safe distance away, they slowed to a walk and Merlin veered to the edge of the trees, out onto the road that leads to Camelot. She could see the castle through the cloud of smoke that rose around it, fire crested through the tree line. When she turned back around, she startled at the sight of Arthur at her back. She hadn’t heard him approach. 

He was staring at the castle, lost and sad and Merlin had to look away. “Come on, Arthur.”

They may have slowed to a walk but it was bordering on a jog at it’s brisk pace. Percival supported the brunt of Arthur’s weight as they made the journey to the border. It may have been Lot’s kingdom they were heading for, but they needed to find sanctuary anywhere they could. If Merlin remembered correctly, there was a village beyond the White Mountains, Ealdor. It was a good a place as any, secluded and quiet, to find shelter and safety. Merlin’s magic prickled anxiously and Merlin paused.

“Wait.” Percival and Arthur halt at her voice and she listens very carefully. Horses, their hooves battering the damp earth. “Run!”

A blast of magic hits and Merlin’s eyes flare with gold to soften Arthur’s fall. Merlin lands harshly on her side, arm throbbing uncomfortably. As Percival rolls around to get Arthur back on his feet, Morgana and her lackeys appear through the mists. A sneer twists Merlin’s face as she reciprocates in kind. Morgana and her men are thrown from the horses and Merlin casts on the animals to send them running. At least that will slow the chase. Satisfied, Merlin turns and starts running again. Arthur’s moving without aid now so Percy stops and draws his sword.

“Go!”

“What about you?” Merlin asks, pausing.

“Don’t worry about me, your highness.”

Arthur didn’t pause with them so Merlins inclines her head gratefully at the knight and takes off after her husband. She catches up quick enough and takes the lead, Arthur follows her keenly. The dirt paths give way to tall ferns at some point, the mist hasn’t lifted from the air and the plants are irritatingly wet as they high step through the area. These bustle in the distance and Merlin stops, raising a hand but Arthur runs into her back anyway. She stumbles, Arthur rights her, then let’s go like he’s worried about getting in trouble.

“Sorry.” He lifts his hands in amends. “My fault.”

Merlin pants, breath curling into a frosty cloud as she listens. Something rustles again, but it’s only a rabbit. It hops into view and then hightails it out of there when it sees them.

“I think we’re safe here, for now.” Arthur’s searching the ferns intently for the rabbit. Merlin eyes his attire and frowns, chewing thoughtfully at her lip. “You’re too conspicuous in those clothes."

“Whatever you say. I’m entirely in your hands.” Merlin blinks, unused to this level of agreeableness from Arthur. There should be a cottage nearby, perhaps they’ll find clothes there. It takes about half an hour but it comes into view, quaint and with a merry fire burning out front. There are clothes draped on a line between two young birches. “Perfect.”

Merlin changes into brown trousers and a red tunic that—thankfully—seem to belong to a woman because they fit nicely. She swipes a faded blue neckerchief and fastens it around her throat to ward off the chill. Her own dress looks ridiculously opulent where she’s draped it over the line but at the very least, she hopes the people that dwell here can sell it for a decent price. She takes a brown jacket for good measure.

“Arthur?” She receives a grunt in response.

“Some of these things are a little on the tight side.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, love.”

“No, you’re right.” He agrees. “I probably should learn to think before I speak, shouldn’t I?”

Merlin smiles. “It would be a start.”

“All done.” Arthur announces proudly as he parades outside. Merlin tries not to laugh and fails miserably. The sight of Arthur in too-small peasant garb wasn’t an image she’d ever forget. Arthur makes a face at her cackles.

“You look like a total turnip-head.”

“Well, shall I try something else? There’s plenty more here.”

“No, no, that—“ She laughs again. “—that will do absolutely fine. Although, maybe I’ll take that.” Merlin snags the coin pouch out of Arthur’s belt and tucks it into her newly acquired jacket. Arthur pouts adorably.

“My gold?”

“Is safer with me.”

“Of course.”

They set off once more and Merlin found it much easier to navigate the woods in pants, dresses were made of stone floors and indoors. The neckerchief was course against her skin but it warmed her neck most pleasantly. After an hour, a light rain began to fall. It pattered gently against the broad leaves above them and dampened the soil, nourished the plants below. Merlin breathed in and smiled, enjoying the petrichor that settled into the climate. The rain was light enough that droplets beaded against their hair without soaking it.

Merlin led them forward but paused cautiously as they approached a clearing, A party of men and a horse-drawn carriage occupied the area and seemed to be packing up their cargo. A blade presses warningly into her back and Merlin peers over her shoulder.

“Hello.” A woman says with a pleasant smile. She cocks a brow and Merlin feels Arthur shuffle closer behind her. The woman, blonde with sharp blue eyes, leads them into the camp and over to who can only be the leader.

“I found them lurking in the woods.”

A man stands by a tree close to the carriage, sharpening a knife. He eyes them up and down curiously. 

“See anything interesting?” 

“No.”

He throws the knife and Merlin flinches sideways. The knife thumps harmlessly into the tree trunk behind her. “You want to watch where you stick your beak, girl.”

“I saw nothing, I promise. We’re just passing through, headed north over the border.”

“Lot’s kingdom? He doesn’t take Kindly to strangers, I can tell you. Likes to decorate his fortress with their heads.”

“So why are you heading there?”

“I have my reasons.”

“As do we. Could we not come with you? We travel for the same purpose and I can pay you if that is what you desire.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so before?” 

They travel for most of the day and Merlin is pleased with the distance they make. The man, Tristan, is in fact the leader and Isolde is his partner in more than just business. Merlin’s glad Arthur’s without his senses when it becomes apparent they’re travelling with smugglers, who claim to be too quick and too smart for the halfwit king of Camelot. Night beckons a stop and Merlin and Arthur makes themselves useful as they help to set up camp. Arthur was still docile and compliant when they settled down for the night, curled together for warmth.

\- - 

Merlin wakes to a sharp flick on her ear. She grumbles sleepily and flops an arm over her face. She’s flicked again, on the forehead this time. Cracking open an eye, she finds Arthur propped up and glaring and she smiles innocently.

“You better have a damn good explanations for this.”

“You’re back.”

“What do you mean I’m back? You’re talking gibberish.”

“Listen to me, Camelot is lost. You were injured in an attack, I had to get you out of there.”

Arthur processed the information with a distraught frown. “Where are we now?”

“Heading north to a safe haven—to Ealdor. Hopefully the knights will meets us there.”

Arthur surveys the around and frowns harder as he takes in the other people, some still sleeping as others begin to rouse and pack up the camp. He points with his thumb and asks, “Who are these people?”

“Smugglers.”

Smugglers?!”

“Sh!” Arthur glares at her.

“All right, I trust you know what you’re doing but it doesn’t explain why I look like a village idiot nor you a peasant.”

“It’s the perfect disguise.” She leans in conspiratorially. “No one would ever suspect us of being, you know, king and queen.”

“I’m sorry, Merlin. I am not going around look like this.”

“You have to. You’ve got to keep in character.”

“Character? What character?”

“You!” Tristan calls and Merlin spins around to meet him, heart thundering nervously. “We leave as soon as the horses are watered. Explain it to the simpleton, would you?” Tristan departs and Merlin turns back around hesitantly and trying her hardest to suppress a grin. Arthur’s glowering at her but it only increases her amusement because he just looks so ridiculous in those clothes. 

“A simpleton?” Merlin grins while she nods. Arthur points accusingly at her and opens his mouth to speak when arrows start whizzing through the air. Everyone in the camp scatters to find weapons and Merlin watches a swarm of Southrons run full pelt towards them.

“Stay close.” Arthur orders as he snatches up a sword. Merlin follows obediently as he moves through the horde. Merlin flings her fair share of men to oblivion, heats some hilts to burning point and crushes others beneath tree branches. Tristan and Isolde have taken cover behind the carriage and Arthur tells them to take cover in the trees.

Arthur follows shortly after and Merlin levitates all the bolts laying around and organises them into a neat line, on her command, the whistle through the air and burrow into a dozen men. She’d killed more men in the last day or so than she had in her entire life. It was grim but there was something oddly…thrilling about it. Merlin chases Arthur through the trees and they both skid down beside Tristan and Isolde, who had taken refuge behind an old log. They all watch as Agravaine and his men search the area.

“They haven’t found the cargo.” Isolde mutters.

“They weren’t after the cargo.” Tristan observes as he looks over at Arthur and Merlin. “They were after you. Who the hell are you people?”

“My name is Arthur Pendragon.” 

“The King of Camelot?” 

“Yes. At least, I was.”

“I’ve lost everything I’ve worked for for some good-for-nothing king?” Tristan spits, a temper taut vein pulsing on his neck.

Arthur raises his eyebrows. “That’s quite something coming from a smuggler.”

“I wouldn’t have to be a smuggler if it wasn’t for you damn taxes, would I?”

“Those taxes protect the people of this land.”

“My people are dead. You call that protection?”

“Enough.” Merlin orders. Tristan turns his fiery attention to her.

“And you?”

“I’m his wife and I ask that you keep your opinions to yourself for the time being.” She tosses her head meaningfully toward the barrage of Southrons. Merlin stays by the log and casts from afar while the others clash swords. It’s a short fight, but Isolde sustains a nasty gash on her forehead and another across her arm.

“She’s injured,” Merlin reasons when Tristan is reluctant of their company. “She needs shelter and rest.”

“Very well, but know this: I did this for her, you and your kind bring nothing but misery to this land.”

Arthur makes to argue in her defensive, Merlin places a staying hand against his arm and shakes her head. It takes the remaining daylight to reach the mouth of the valley that leads to Ealdor. The sky is dusty grey with impending night as they make camp, get a healthy fire going. Tristan sleeps wrapped around Isolde. Merlin and Arthur sit by the fire together.

“You knew.” Arthur mulls. “You knew Agravaine was betraying me.”

“I couldn’t be sure, but…I had my suspicions.”

“I feel like such a fool. I put such trust in him.” A beat of silence as Arthur scrubs a hand over his face. “All this time, I was blind to his treachery as I was to Morgana’s.”

“You were deceived, Arthur, it could happen to anyone.”

“And yet it keeps happening to me.” He argues, frustrated, tired, hurt. “I cared about these people, I—I don’t understand. What have I done wrong? Why do they hate me?”

Merlin shifts to face him and steals his hand in a adamantine grip. “They don’t hate you, they just crave your power for themselves.”

“Perhaps.” Arthur mutters despondently. “Would they still want that power if I was the king my people deserve? Maybe Tristan is right…”

“Tristan was angry and afraid. He needed to blame someone but it’s not you that’s to blame.”

“You seem very sure about all this.”

“All I know is that, for your many faults, you are honest and brave and true-hearted. You are already becoming the greatest king this land has ever know, I see him in you.”

Arthur’s quiet for a moment after that and some of his punishing emotions have faded, his eyes a little bit brighter without them. 

“Well, I have the support of my queen, at least.”

“I’m not alone. Believe me.” 

The party of four make it to Ealdor by midday. It’s an unremarkable village, squat little houses with dirt-streaked peasants milling about. No one recognises them as they move through the dirt street. Shelter is offered by a man called Thomas that appears to be the leader, eager to accept their gold for a hot meal and somewhere to rest. Merlin tends to Isolde as the men have their dinner. Dried blood comes away on the damp cloth and Merlin lets some of her magic leak into the sleeping woman. Just enough to aid recovery.

\- - 

Agravaine attacks in the night. Southron’s pursue them through the forest for hours as Merlin leads everyone to the caves beyond the village. Just as they huddle into the dark mouth of the cave network, Agravaine and a fleet of Southron’s pour into the clearing that banks the cave. “Merlin?” Arthur prompts, more in askance of action than a worded reply. 

“What could she possibly do?” Tristan doubts and Arthur raises his hand for quiet. Merlin anchors herself, eyes fluttering shut as she opens herself to the earth beneath her feet. A surge of power rises up inside of her and and breaths to control it. 

She raises both hands, palms raised to the sky. “Brynewelm forslítan!” 

Merlin closes her hands into fists as she finishes the spell, eyes searing with the power of the sun as the men before them are engulfed in flames. Horrific screams rise from the raging sea of fire and the smoke that rises smells putrid. The flames set the night sky ablaze, Merlin finds herself without remorse as she watches. Arthur, who had never seen her magic used in such a malignant way, swallowed his fear at the display. Seeing Merlin lay waste to more than a hundred men without a moments hesitation was…terrifying. The power she possessed could destroy the world and she wields it at his request. Harrowing.

Merlin turns away from the destruction she caused and enters the cave. It’s pitch black without the moon’s light so Merlin summons seeing-lights, one for each of them. The tranquil blue orbs are a far cry from the magic she used minutes ago. Together, they meander through the cave network as Merlin’s leads the way. She can hear Arthur and the others talking in hushed tones but she doesn’t mind. Arthur can explain why the queen of anti-magic Camelot is a witch. The quite conversation is cut short by distant clattering. Merlin sighs and turns around.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Arthur grabs her wrist as she passes.

Merlin shrugs. “Create a diversion.”

“It’s too risky.”

“Keep going, I’ll deal with them.”

Arthur is reluctant and he hesitates before releasing her. He does, however, drag her into a desperate kiss beforehand. She finds Agravaine, wonders fleetingly how he survived the fire as she lures him away from the others. She runs until she meets a dead end and Agravaine shuffled to a standstill behind her.

“Merlin.” He calls, out of breath. “Where’s Arthur?”

Merlin turns around to face him. “Be careful.” She warns.

“What are you talking about?” Agravaine looks around nervously, suspicious. “Where’s Arthur? Tell me. Now. Or I’ll have to kill you.” 

“I don’t think so.”

Agravaine has but a second to ponder the ambiguity of that before he’s soaring. Limbs flail uselessly, his torch snuffs as it meets the ground, necking clicking loudly where it smashes against rock. Merlin looks down into blank eyes.

\- - 

Merlin’s irritation with Tristan bubbled away when they began camp. Arthur’s spirits were low enough without Tristan chipping at them without pause. Isolde was nice enough but she didn’t exactly try and stop her partner from being an ass. Arthur sat alone that night in self-exile but Merlin would not let him wallow. Merlin lowers herself onto the spongy grass beside him. “What’s the matter?”

“I trusted the wrong people.” He confides quietly. “I was a fool. I misjudged everyone…my uncle, Morgana. Every decision I’ve made has been wrong.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself.”

“I should be more discerning, wise. A statesman, a king.” Merlin frowns sadly at the deprecation. “Tristan’s right, there’s nothing special about me. I’m just like everyone else.”

“You’re not. You’re a worthy king and our people love you.”

“Most of them are dead, thanks to me.”

“No. Most of them escaped and they’ll be here in the forest, I’m sure of that.”

“If they are, they’ll have to find themselves a new king.” Arthur says bitterly, an acidic look on his face. Merlin reaches out but not quick enough, Arthur forces himself away from the ground and walks off, a slump to his shoulders and a drag to his feet.

\- - 

With daybreak, an idea flourishes to life. Merlin whips her hair into a braid and straightens her dress the best she can. She’d burrowed it from a young woman in Ealdor, Arthur even managed to scrounge up chainmail. She treads across the sprouting forest floor to Arthur and nudges him awake. He jerks at her touch and lifts his head, eyes bleary. “What?”

“There’s something I need to show you.”

Arthur trudges after her with all the enthusiasm of a wet cat. His mood sours the air but Merlin pushes onward, leading Arthur through the trees still submerged in morning’s mist. Clovers crunch wetly under their boots.

“This had better be good, because this really isn’t the time for one of your ridiculous games.” He sooks.

“I don’t play _games_. I was thinking about last night and how you were saying how you’d given up all hope, how you were a poor leader and a shoddy king-“

“Shoddy?”

“Fine, shabby.”

_”Thanks”_

“Anytime. It reminded me of a tale Gaius once told me.” Merlin didn’t need to turn around to see the scowl curling onto Arthur’s face. “For once in your life, just listen.” Arthur raised his hands along with his eyebrows.

“Many years ago, before the birth of the five kingdoms, this land was in an endless cycle of bloodshed and war. But one man was determined to end all that. He gathered together the elders of each tribe and drew up plans for their lands to be divided. Each would respect the others’ boundaries and rule over the land as they saw fit. That man was Camelot’s first king, Bruta—ancestor to all that followed, including you, Arthur. But there’s another part of the story that you haven’t heard.”

“Really?” Arthur asks, drenched in sarcasm.

“When Bruta was on his deathbed, he asked to be taken deep into the forest. There, with the last of his strength, he thrust his sword into a rock. If his lineage was ever questioned, this would form a test. Only a true king of Camelot could pull the weapon free. When the sword was thrust into the stone, the ancient king foretold that one day it would be freed again—at a time when Camelot needed it most. The man who freed it would unite the land of Albion and rule over the greatest kingdom the world has ever known…that man is you, Arthur.”

Arthur pulls up beside her. “Are you making this up?”

“Of course not.”

“Alright. If it’s true, why haven’t I heard this story?”

“Well, history isn’t really your strong point, is it?” Merlin jibes as the greenery turns into browned leaves, dampened by mist and devoid of their usual crunch. The land dips into a cradle overarched by evergreens.

“Then where is this rock?”

“It was lost many years ago during the Great Purge. But…I’ve found it.”

“I’ve never heard so much rubbish in my entire life.”

Merlin stops and waits for Arthur. “What’s that then?”

There, in the centre of the space stood Excalibur. Just where Merlin left it. The sun stuck the blade with blinding force to kiss the blade. Right on cue, the people of Camelot flow through the trees. Knights, nobles and peasants alike, all gathered to bare witness.

“What the hell are you playing at?” He whisper-yells. “That sword is stuck fast in solid stone.”

“And you’re going to pull it out.”

“Merlin, it’s impossible.”

“Arthur, you’re the true king of Camelot, you aren’t just anyone. You are special. You and you alone can draw out that sword.”

“You better be right about this…” Arthur discards his sword and approaches the stone, staring out at the people in gathering with growing apprehension. He encircles the hilt and pulls, hard enough that his whole body quivers with the effort. It doesn’t budge and his heart thunders with increasing embarrassment.

“You have to believe, Arthur.” Merlin urges, her voice washing over him. Still, the sword doesn’t so much as wobble. 

“You’re destined to be Albion’s greatest king.” Arthur exhales shakily and divorces from the sword, it’s persistent glinting seemly more like a taunt than an enticement.

“Nothing, not even this stone, can stand in your way.”

Arthur reaches out once more, one hand this time, and lets his eyes fall shut. The sun is warm across the side of his face.

“Have faith.” Merlin exhorts, he lets her confidence fill him, lets himself believe—even for a moment—that he deserves her trust, her belief, her faith, her love. The muscles in his arm tense as he pulls but this time he’s met without resistance. It’s impossibly light in his hands and there’s a power running through it he cannot deny.

“Long live the King!” Leon starts, the rest follow.

\- - 

Camelot’s liberation began with stealth as what remained of her army stole into the castle. It didn’t take a long before stealth yielded to battle. Steel on steel as half the force freed brothers in arms from the dungeons, the other clearing a path to the throne room where Morgana hid. When Arthur breached the doors, Merlin at his side and—oddly—Tristan and Isolde at his back, Morgana was draped apathetically over the throne. Helios was at the wooden back, sword brandished as an overconfident smile stretched across Morgana’s face.

“Welcome, dear brother, it’s been far too long.” She satirises, rising from the throne to slither forward. “I apologise if you had a difficult reception.”

Arthur moves until they meet in the middle, theatrically sheathing his sword in a display of peace. They regard each other, inches apart, air charged with hostility and sadness. 

What happened to you, Morgana? I thought we were friends.” 

“As did I.” The brief melancholy is drowned in a sneer. “But alas, we were both wrong.”

“You can’t blame me for my father’s sins.”

“It’s a little late for that. You’ve made it perfectly clear how you feel about me and my kind.” Morgana’s cool eyes flick to Merlin at that comment. “You’re not as different from Uther as you’d like to think.”

“Nor are you.”

With Morgana focused solely on Arthur, Merlin takes the chance to cast. She incants the spell in her mind, _ontende eallne þæs drycræftes hire sawle_ , and blinks to hide the spark of her eyes. 

“I’m going to enjoy killing you, Arthur Pendragon.” Morgana takes slow steps back, face hard and eyes simmering with disdain. Merlin hopes to every God there is her spell worked. “Not even Emrys can save you know.”

Arthur pulls his sword even as Tristan and Isolde step up with their own blades. Morgana regards them with a gleeful smile. “Your blades cannot stop me.” She laughs. The spell worked, Merlin can feel it syphoning Morgana’s magic as she prepares to cast.

With her hand outstretched, Morgana attempts a spell. “Hleap on bæc!”

Nothing. Merlin feels a cold smile creeping onto her face as the spell is absorbed by her own magic. Morgana tries twice more to cast, each failure bringing more fear to her eyes until her hands trembled with it.

“Not so powerful now, Morgana.” Merlin drawls and Morgana’s eyes fly to her with unchecked terror.

“Y-You…what have you done?” She whispers.

Merlin answers by using the magic she’d syphoned to strike her down. Morgana screams as her nerve endings are set alight, crumpling into a pathetic heap. Arthur takes his cue and enters battle with Helios. Merlin doesn’t pay it much mind, it’s one against three so she can focus on Morgana. Her magic bites at the other woman, eager to return to hurt she’d inflicted on innocent people in her mad crusade. Morgana whimpered, sending a pang to Merlin’s heart. How had it come to this? They were once the best of friends, and now, enemies bound by destiny until death found one of them.

Helios falls to Arthur’s blade and Merlin finally pulls her magic back. Morgana sags as the pain fades away and Merlin crouches next to her, catching the pained eyes that behold her with betrayal. “Try again, and it will be your last.”

Morgana swallows, surveys the room, and scampers to her feet. Merlin lets a shockwave of magic ripple through the air in warning as Morgana flees the room. Merlin finally turns to the others, only to find a teary Tristan holding a very pale Isolde. Merlin is beside them in an instant, offering a reassuring smile when Tristan tightens his hold and eyes her warily. Isolde is looking at her with a smile, eyes already glazing.

“I can heal you, if you’ll let me.”

Tristan loses any trace of apprehension at the offer and Isolde lets her arm drop away from her midsection. A nasty gash leaks blood over her cloths but Merlin recognises the permission she’s been granted. Her hands hovers just above the wound and it takes little effort for the flesh to mend. Colour rushes back to Isolde’s face and Tristan’s tears become those of relief.

“Thank you,” He weeps, cradling his love closer. “Thank you, your majesty.”

\- -

Camelot returned to a swift equilibrium. For the most part, Arthur spent his days in the company of his council overseeing various matters of state. Merlin didn’t see a whole lot of him during the day but she was rarely unoccupied herself. She oversaw a lot of the repairs, delivered hand-written condolences for knights lost in battle and arranged appropriate compensation for their families. It was an exhausting few months but Camelot was restored to glory soon enough. Arthur and Merlin maintained peace so potent it often rewarded them with free time. The people were at ease, enemies were dormant…they were happy.

Merlin sighed in contentment as she untangled the delicate coronet from her head. It may be lighter and subtler than her ceremonial crown but the thin stems of silver always clawed ruthlessly at her hair. She emptied her locks of the fleet of pearl pins that had been taming it during the feast and tossed her head around. A lone pin pranged onto the floor as she did so. The familiar flap of fabric sounded as Arthur tossed his cape and jacket away chaotically. 

“Is it really that difficult to hang them over the changing screen?” Arthur smiled even as he toed off his boots and kicked them in opposite directions.

“Well, I can’t make it too easy for Morris, can I?”

Merlin watched a boot skid excitedly passed her as she mindlessly unclasped her plated belt and placed it on the dresser. Arthur let his clatter noisily to the floor. Merlin tutted.

“There’s making it easy and then there’s just being a slob.” Arthur offered her a lopsided smile from across the bed before he jumped on it and rolled toward her. Merlin giggled as he smoothly embraced her and let a rain of kisses befall her face. She batted him away playfully.

“I,” Arthur intoned cheerfully, “have another present for you.”

“Two in one day?” Arthur had been one of the few people to get her something interesting today. The feast was in celebration of her 24th year and the first quart was used for gift presentations from Camelot’s affluent. 

“Mm, this one is a bit more…personal.” There’s a suggestive quirk to Arthur’s mouth as his hands depart her waist to work the laces of the dress. Arthur managed to find the most beautiful crystal—rainbow fluorite, he’d said—smoothed and polished into the shape of a dragon's egg. It was perched proudly on her vanity.

“Well,” Merlin purred, leaning up until her lips were ghosting against Arthur’s ear. “Why don’t you show me just how _personal_ your gift is?”

Arthur growled low and tore her dress, impatient with the never-ending laces and Merlin found it rather erotic. She was flat on her back in a second and Arthur’s tongue was licking a hot stripe over her clit. If the heated gazes she’d been getting during the feast were anything to go by, she was in for it tonight. Merlin writhed against his mouth as he lavished her sensitive bud, back arching when two fingers shoved in without warning. A third joined shortly after and the combined stimulation had heat coiling in her belly.

Arthur’s teeth grazed against her and she squeaked at the unexpected pleasure it invoked. Merlin chased Arthur’s fingers, grinding down against them and chasing her orgasm but right before it could crest, Arthur pulled away.

“Arthur…” She whined petulantly, unwilling to be denied. Arthur kissed her temple before strong hands grabbed at her body. Boneless as she was, she allowed his manhandling and found herself on hands and knees. Arthur planted a commanding hand between her shoulder blades and forced her down. 

Merlin moans as sensitive nipples chafe against the bedsheets. Breath hitching as a familiar bluntness presses against her hole, soaking and clenching at the emptiness, she felt Arthur lean over her, lips grazing her upturned ear. She whines and wriggles beneath him, craving and desperate, Arthur nips her ear in warning and she falls still.

“Look at you, such a harlot for my cock…” He pressed closer, enough to part her damp folds but not enough to enter her. Merlin nearly sobs with want. “Aren’t you?”

_”Yes._

“You love being filled, stretched wide, don’t you, _Merlin_?”

The way he says her name, haughty and obscenely low, has her cunt clenching eagerly. Moisture is dripping down her thighs, spilling around the head of Arthur’s cock where it threatens to impale her. He always loves making her beg for it.

“Please, Arthur…”

Satisfied, Arthur rams into her with such force it feels as though she’s being split it two. Merlin releases a long moan, slicked walls admitting Arthur without hesitation. 

“Good girl.” He praises, voice low. Then he’s straightening up, one hand still pinning her to the bed as the other ensnares her hip in a punishing grip. Arthur wastes no time, sharp thrusts driving his rigid length impossibly deep. Her back ached with the angle but she couldn’t bring herself to care. The hand on her back vanished but she didn’t dare to move.

Powerful thrusts drove her into the mattress as Arthur threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her head back. Dominating as he was, Merlin could do little more than take it. Dynamics in bed always leant authority to Arthur and Merlin was happy to submit. His cock was spearing her relentlessly and her pleasure built and built until warmth was pooling low in her belly once more. Arthur bowed over her again, bracing against the bed and using the grip on her hair to angle her head. His breath was loud in her ear as he continued drilling her. 

“Cum for me, Merlin.”

Merlin squeezed her eyes shut and screamed her release. Legs quivering as the orgasm washed over her, shockwaves of pleasure pulsing relentlessly. Arthur shuddered above her, a warm fountain exploding inside of her and coating her deepest walls with his seed. They collapsed in a mess of limbs, breathless and satiated. Arthur dragged her into a cuddle and it was barely five minuets before she felt him hardening again. More manhandling ensued and Merlin, still wet from earlier, was dropped onto his cock and held in place as he rammed up into her. They screwed well into the night, Merlin let herself be bred and filled with cum until she felt swollen with it.

Best birthday ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Spells:
> 
> "Brynewelm forslítan!” = "Consuming flames!"


	5. Season 5

Merlin lets out a breath, slow and controlled as she tries to ward off another wave of faintness. Eyes shut against the light in an effort to ease the ache pinching her head, long-winded mumblings of the council doing nothing to help her discomfort. It’s only when warmth blooms low on her back, Merlin realises her hands have come up to rub circles against her temples. 

Hands dropping into a clasp against the round table, she smiles—the soft kind reserved for Arthur—and nods in assurance. He watches her for a beat before rekindling a discussion about farming taxes, though his hand remains anchored to her back.

The gruelling council session comes to an end within the hour but the incessant throb behind her eyes hasn’t waned in the slightest. These stupid headaches have been driving her up the wall for the better part of two weeks and if it wasn’t that, it was bouts of faintness that had her feeling cold all over.

“I don’t understand why you won’t see Gaius.”

“He’s busy with a sweating sickness in the lower town, I’m hardly going to bother him about some headaches.”

“What if it’s something serious, Merl?”

“I think I’d know.” She sinks into bed and wiggles into a comfortable sprawl. “Besides, I know where his head tonics are. If I’m _that_ desperate, I can help myself.”

Arthur slips in beside her, ruining her hard-earned comfort by dragging her into a cuddle. She didn’t mind. Her magic had been tetchy as of late and irritatingly disagreeable but it snuffs the candles without argument. Warm fingers start massaging her scalp, rhythmic movement determined to send her to sleep. 

\- - 

The smell of chicken draws a rude end to Merlin’s slumber. Nose scrunched, she squints viciously against the bright room and rolls to glare at the table. It was the third week of headaches, though they’d lessened in severity, but apparently there was no reprieve because now _chicken_ was the bane of her existence.

She’d withheld attending court hearings this morning and while part of her felt bad for leaving Arthur to suffer them alone, a much larger part was selfishly grateful for the sleep in. Merlin watches Morris and Meredith arrange lunch across the table. Arthur enters in the next minute with a dramatic sigh. Humming at the sight of food and taking a drumstick before walking to the bed. Merlin eyes the chicken leg disdainfully. 

“You would’ve loved the hearings today. I had two farmers in to settle a dispute over a tree, of all things.” He takes a wet bite of his drumstick. “How are you feeling?”

“Same as this morning.”

Arthur chews his mouthful, swallows, and leans down to kiss her head. Merlin recoils before he can, stomach rolling as the smell pervades her nose. Arthur frowns.

“Gods, get that away from me! It’s repellant.”

Arthur pouts down at his drumstick but steps back anyway. “You love chicken.”

“Not now, makes me nauseous. I even told the kitchens not to send any.” She grumbles.

The foul stench finds her again and her stomach rolls so violently, she propels herself to the chamber pot and empties it. Merlin retches, eyes squeezed shut and watering as her insides churn. The action aggravates her headache. Arthur’s at her back, sans chicken, gathering her hair as another wave of nausea hits. Merlin groans pitifully and leans back against Arthur, breathing carefully to settle her stomach. 

“That’s it.” Arthur says, stern. “You’re going to Gaius.”

\- -

“Headaches?”

“Almost constantly.”

“Faint spells or dizziness?”

“Sometimes.”

“Nausea?”

“Yes, as of late.”

“Food aversions?”

“Recently. Chicken.”

“Fatigue?”

“I wouldn’t say so, no.”

“Mood swings?”

“No.”

“Hot flushes?”

“No.”

Gaius concludes his examination with a thoughtful hum. Arthur had dropped her off and promptly been called away by Leon, so Merlin sat alone as Gaius checked her. He scribbled on a piece of parchment. The scent of herbs was relaxing, as was the lazy bubbling of flasks in the background. 

“Your monthly?”

“I’m not due to bleed for another week.”

Gaius nods, though he frowns through the movement. Merlin sits patiently and watches the physician ambls around the room and check his books. Her mind wanders during the wait, legs swinging absently. Gaius mutters to himself, arthritic fingers tracing over old pages. He closes the book with care, deposits it on a workbench and hobbles over to Merlin.

“Well?”

“I’m afraid I cannot provide a definitive diagnosis, my lady.”

“Then what’s your partial?”

“You’re displaying some early signs of pregnancy, but I can’t say with certainty unless you miss your bleed.”

Merlin blinks, though she doesn’t fear the possibility, it’s certainly a strange one. She looks down at her stomach, flat and normal beneath her gown.

“Oh.”

“I’d like for you to visit in a week’s time for further examination, until then, I can give you a tonic for the headaches and nausea.”

“Thank you, Gaius.”

The old man bows respectfully as she hops off the table. Conflicting thoughts war in her mind, her brows pinch. She doesn’t notice Gaius has moved until he’s pressing a pair of vials into her hand. Merlin really wasn’t sure what to think. She’s never contemplated motherhood before nor has it been something she’s aspired to. The idea of being pregnant was definitely a scary one, of that she was sure. The physical experience didn’t sound enjoyable and birth sounded even _less_ so.

Hunith had always told her what a miracle it was to have a child, that it was a blessing to be cherished and enjoyed. If she _was_ pregnant, then there is a high chance she’s carrying Camelot’s heir. What if the child had magic? Was it even safe to bring a child into a world with Morgana? Gods, what if Arthur didn’t want it? 

Merlin drifted through her day in a haze. The tonics had worked wonders, regulating her stomach and banishing the pesky throb behind her eyes. She judged a garland competition, saw the kitchens about inventory (and made it abundantly clear there was to be _no chicken_ sent to the royal chambers) and took tea with some of her favourite courtiers; Lady Madeline and Lady Diana. 

They were the only ones she’s spoken to (and there were many) that weren’t spineless and bland. Tea with them meant getting gossip and exchanging canards. They were women of humour, not cowed by Merlin’s status. It was wonderfully refreshing.

Madeline was heading for her third decade; a lithe woman with ashy blonde hair that was practically white and honey brown eyes. Married to Lord Accolon with two teenage daughters that Merlin often saw sauntering past the training grounds to distract the knights. They got their charm from their mother. Diana was one summer younger than Merlin, with ridiculously curly chocolate hair and sparkling green eyes. She had a young son with Sir Caradoc and was newly pregnant with another. With the impending possibility of Merlin’s pregnancy, she already knew she’d be taking tea with them more often.

Arthur curls around her that night, his weirdly thermal body heating the bed and warming her feet. Merlin snuggles into him. He doesn’t ask about her appointment with Gaius and she’s glad for it. She’s not sure what she would’ve said if he did.

\- -

A week passes. Then another, just to make sure her bleed wasn’t late. Her breasts have grown tender and her chicken aversion hasn’t abated. A tentative knock and a mumbled bidding through the door, she steps into the physician’s chambers.

“Ah, Merlin. I was wondering when you’d stop by.” Merlin fingers her sleeve, twisting the loose fabric around restlessly. Gaius is quiet as she stands by the door.

“I didn’t bleed.” As she says it, she’s appalled to feel wetness gathering on her waterline. 

Gaius bustles closer and wraps her in a hug, rubs her back as she sniffles into his shoulder. He smells of herbs. Merlin spends close to an hour holed up with Gaius, being educated on the act of childbearing. She feels better by the end, knowing what to expect goes a long way in easing her fears. Gaius is quite sure her magic will protect both her and the baby when the time comes to deliver. She hadn’t even thought of that.

He gives her a tea to enhance comfort—raspberry leaf, peppermint, elm and ginger— and a tonic to take nightly that’s meant to boost and replenish minerals in her blood. 

“You’re just over one month, so don’t expect to show physical signs. That typically happens a bit further along.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t hesitate to send for me if you experience any pain or discomfort, though hopefully you won’t have need of me until you’re closer to birth.”

“Thank you, again, Gaius.” 

“Of course, my dear.” He wraps her in another hug and despite her unsettled stomach, Merlin felt lighter than she had in weeks.

\- - 

Merlin takes the tonic before Arthur arrives for dinner. He’s quick to change into his night clothes, feet bare and belt gone. He lounges back in his chair. Merlin nibbles at the lighter foods, bread, berries, but does manage a small portion of venison. Arthur looks at her funny when she denies the wine and asks for water and she smiles at him as it’s poured into her goblet. 

“Arthur?” She says as the meal winds down. She sits straighter, forward on the chair and waits for him to look. When he does, it’s quizzical but unworried.

“Yes, love?”

“There's something I have to tell you.”

Merlin leans forward and covers Arthur’s hand where it rests on the table. He looks from her face, to her hand, and back again. She chews her lip, hesitant all over again. 

“You know you can tell me anything, Merlin.”

“I’m with child.” It’s said quietly and the room is horribly silent afterwards. The beginnings of doubt and rejection take root but before they can sprout and grow, Arthur grabs her hand.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Yes.”

“I’m…I’m going to be a father?” Arthur’s grinning like an idiot, voice full of wonder and Merlin can’t help smiling back.

“Yes!” She affirms, encouraged by Arthur’s joy. The king stands from his chair and pulls her up with him. Strong arms wrap around her middle, then she’s being lifted and spun around while Arthur laughs. He sets her down, peppers her face with kisses even as a hand finds its way to her stomach.

“You’re not…mad?”

Arthur’s gaze snaps up to her face, confusion overshadowed by the joy brightening his eyes. Were they tears?

“Why on earth would I be mad?”

“I don’t know, we never talked about kids.”

“Merlin, I don’t think I could be mad if I tried. I’m going to be a father!” Arthur’s hand is warm against her stomach. “Oh, this is wonderful.”

Merlin grins under his attention, oddly proud of herself. She feels silly for ever doubting Arthur’s reaction. Telling someone else made it feel more rea, seeing Arthur so delighted by the news made her worries fall away. 

\- - 

The news was announced at court the following day. With all the council members in attendance and a swarm of trusted nobility filling the gaps, Arthur shared his joy. Merlin stood beside him with a refined smile, hand in hand as the court genealogist recored the event. 

“Lord and Ladies of the court, I’ve gathered you here to share momentous news. Queen Merlin is with child, and soon enough, we will welcome Camelot’s heir.”

The servants in attendance would no doubt have this spread throughout the kingdom by sundown. Gwen was covering her mouth with teary eyes and Merlin could see the knights beaming. She had no doubt they’d all play uncle when the babe came along and she couldn’t think of better men for the job. 

\- - 

It started out fine. Once the nausea subsided, Merlin found herself feeling exactly as she would any other time. Her bump had started to show about three months ago and ever since it had, Arthur’s protectiveness had grown. Merlin didn’t mind being fussed over. At night, he always slept with an arm over her belly, protective even in sleep.

She was six months along now. Merlin was definitely starting to feel the stain. Her legs cramped if she was up for too long, her gums were sensitive for some ungodly reason and her back ached almost constantly. She’d quickened a month ago. Being her first, Merlin hadn’t know what the sensation was so she’d summoned Gaius. Gaius had smiled, told her about quickening and reassured her it was all normal. It was surreal feeling her baby move. Having a bump was one thing but the movements inside her had been so bizarre at first. Arthur had teared up when Merlin pressed his hand against her belly, right where the babe was kicking.

“That’s amazing.” He’d said, transfixed. “You’re amazing, my beautiful wife.”

The movements had increased in both frequency and strength since then, but Merlin had grown used to it. As of this moment, Merlin was lounging by the fire with her feet up. Throbbing but not swollen, they were sore after a day of walking. She sips contently at her tea—rose hip and dandelion—as Arthur works at his desk. Her love of chicken hadn’t returned but she’d developed gluttony for honied duck, something she wasn’t interested in beforehand.

“Arthur?” She called after another mouthful of tea vanished down her throat. He hummed in answer, obviously invested in his work.

“Did Gaius drop off any arnica balm today?” He doesn’t answer straight away and Merlin listens to the scratch of his quill as he finishes whatever it is he’s doing. His chair scrapes back and then he’s appearing at her side, handing her a parchment still wet with ink.

She reads it over, blinks, and reads it again.

“Arthur…”

“It’s just a draft,” He says, uncharacteristically shy. “What do you think?”

_I, King Arthur Pendragon, repeal the ban on magic. It is by my decree that magic be legalised in Camelot; to be governed with fairness and treated with due respect._

“It’s not finalised or anything but I thought we could talk to Geoffrey about it because I really haven’t a clue how we’d regulate it. I figure he’d have records from before the purge. I just, you know, if our baby has magic I don’t want them to grow up being afraid of who they are and you shouldn’t have to hide anymore, so…”

_”Arthur.”_ She says, looking up at him with tears in her eyes and love in her heart. 

This wonderful man was freeing her people, freeing her, freeing their baby. He was blossoming into the king of legends, stepping into prophecy and embracing magic as he was destined to do. Merlin stands, with a bit of difficulty but Arthur is there, offering his body for support and Merlin’s crying fully now. She holds him tight, unbelievably overwhelmed by the prospect of being truly free and swamped by love for her king. When she pulls back, Arthur’s hands linger on her arms and he’s frowning, unsure of himself.

“Arthur, it’s brilliant.” Relief washes over his features, though she’s not sure why he thought she’d be anything but happy.

“Shall we pay Geoffrey a visit tomorrow, then?” 

Merlin nods and sniffles, a watery smile giving her cheeks reason to ache. 

\- - 

“You really shouldn’t be on your feet so much, my lady.”

“Gwen, for the umpteenth time, _please_ just call me Merlin.”

Gwen snickers and smiles warmly at a passing laundress. They’re strolling the courtyard’s perimeter, arm in arm, while Gwaine loiters behind them. Merlin wanted to enjoy the sun’s warmth while it lasted, summer was waning after all. Plus, she was seven months now and it wouldn’t be long until she was too big to move.

“She’s got a point you know.” Gwaine pipes, ambling up on Merlin’s free side.

“Don’t you start,” She warns. “Between Arthur and Gaius I get more than enough of that.”

Gwaine shrugs, his ever-present smile a familiar comfort. “Ah, well, I’ll be sure not to care next time.”

“Who says there’s going to be a next time?”

“Oh, look!” Gwen says with a gasp. “Those vendors from the east are back, you know, the ones with that fruit bread you like?”

Merlin follows Gwen’s line of sight to where an elderly couple are setting up shop in the mouth of the market. They share a grin. If she could, Merlin would be bounding over to the stall but with the added weight of the bub, it was a very leisurely amble. The clink of Gwaine’s chainmail beside her was an odd comfort. At long last, the delightful spread of sweets was before them.

“Your Majesty!” Exclaims the elderly woman, cracking into a curtsey. “'Ow wonderful to see you again, and with child no less! Edgar, come say ‘ello”

Edgar, a crinkled man hard of hearing and hunched with age, hobbles around and greets her with a friendly, “Majesty.”

“Radiant as always, you’ve the glow of pregnancy, my lady.”

Merlin smiled at the compliment and rests her free hand over the bump. She was draped in blue today, a shining gold headpiece to decorate her lose hair. Braids gave her headaches these days. 

“Tell me, Maggie, have you any fruit bread?”

"Of course, of course!” The grey woman says, scooping up a wedge and offering it. “'Ow far along are you, then?”

Merlin has a mouthful of bread when she asks so Gwen graciously answers in her steed. 

“Milady’s seven months.” Maggie smiles kindly. 

Merlin moans into the bread as pops of fruit explode against her tongue. She nods at Gwaine, glad she had the foresight to bring some coins and Gwaine pays double what she owes. He knows her too well. They leave Maggie and Edgar to their business, Merlin doesn’t miss the influx of customers after she visits, royal endorsement was a brilliant catalyst for sales. She’d love to stay out longer, but the pain in her back grew sharp so she called it a day. 

Stairs had become her nemesis. Merlin leaned heavily on Gwen and Gwaine as she ascended. _Endless bastards,_ Merlin thought as she finally made it to the top. By the time they reached her chambers, Merlin’s out of breath and eager to put her feet up to alleviate the pain. Gwen opens the door, Gwaine leads her inside, and Arthur’s striding over from his desk.

“What happened?” He asks, taking her weight from Gwaine.

“Stairs.” She pants, a hand pressing into the small of her back for support, face scrunched in discomfort. The journey to her chair felt tedious but sinking into the plush cushion, toasty from the fire, was heaven. Arthur rustles around the draws, returns with a half empty jar of balm and sits crossed legged by her feet.

Merlin tracks him with a tired smile while he slips off her shoes and takes a scoop of balm to her foot. Calloused hands trained to kill, gentling her and massaging inflamed ankles with a level of care others wouldn’t expect. The baby moves, restless, Merlin settles it with a few slow caresses over her belly. 

“Gaius told you to take it easy.” Arthur chides softly, fingers tracing deliberate lines over her ankles. She sighs.

“I know.” She concedes. “I didn’t want to take my chamber until absolutely necessary, though I suppose I haven’t much of a choice.”

“You need to save your strength, love.” Arthur moves to her other foot. “Gaius said birth can be…dangerous.”

Arthur wouldn’t voice it, but Merlin knew he thought of his mother. As the time drew nearer, she often found the lines of concern on his face whenever she mentions discomfort. He’d been white as snow when Gaius told them all the possible risks of birthing a child.

“I’ll be fine, Arthur. Promise.”

He doesn’t look up when he says: “I know, I just worry.”

“Sap.” Arthur huffs a laugh and Merlin’s eyes flutter shut in bliss under his gentle touch. “How’s the council going?”

Arthur groans, shifts to pick up more balm and starts working her calves. “Not great, they’re resistant to change. Though, most of them are Uther’s men so it’s not entirely surprising.”

“Mm, have you any support?”

“Lords Caradoc and Accolon are on side, Leon and the knights, obviously. Geoffrey’s hesitantly agreeable and Lady Elaine has voiced her favour. The rest are appalled by the idea.”

“I wish I could be there to help.”

“You staying safe helps, it gives me peace of mind.”

Merlin smiles and cracks her eyes open halfway. Arthur’s hair is uncombed, a loose red tunic and bare feet. He looks young and content, sitting by the fire and doting on his wife. 

“The baby’s moving.”

Arthur looks up at her, eyes alight with love and wonder and he smiles, lopsided and soft. Her foot is placed down lightly, Arthur rises to his knees and shuffles into the space between her legs to place both of his hands over her bump. The baby kicks again, Merlin likes to think they recognise their father.

“Amazing.” He whispers, awestruck and bright eyed. He presses a kiss to the fabric stretching over her belly, and looks up at her. “You’re amazing.”

\- - 

It takes another month for talks on magic lore to come to an agreeable end. The throne room is packed with nobility, the balcony doors are open and below, the masses have gathered in the courtyard. They knew there was to be an announcement, and speculation took the form of curious chatter as they waited. 

Merlin makes an appearance for the occasion, resplendent in a glittering lilac gown and glowing in a way only expecting mothers can. No one had seen her since she’d taken her chamber, least of all the peasants. While it felt lovely to be outside, the ceremonial crown was etching an ache into her temples. When Arthur spoke, it was volume enough to reach the people below and behind.

There were tears and smiles and a relief so collective it was practically tangible. Not a hint of anger met the repeal which went a long way in showing how wrong Uther had been. Merlin declared her own magic by performing a spectacle for the people. It had been too long since she’d used magic in such a way. A rainbow of lights fizzled in the sky and rained down on the people below; children laughed, people clapped, the kingdom rejoiced. 

Gwen brought frequent news of magic to her chambers because Merlin could no longer walk without immense pain in her back. The first time it happened, a boy had been carrying jugs of water and tripped. The jugs froze midair and everyone looked at him, shocked but pleased, and the boy had walked away with a smile as the jugs floated behind him. Merlin knew it would take time to abolish the climate of fear that lingered around magic, but it was a step in the right direction. She had noticed a distinct shift in the land, too. With magic back in the kingdom’s heart the earth felt charged with it. Merlin wasn’t sure if anyone else noticed but it was a wonderful thing.

The beginnings of Albion were starting to emerge, magic’s return a harbinger of peace.

\- - 

Arthur would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared, terrified even. He can’t deny the wild beat of his heart nor the cold fear gripping it. An endless stream of worries flowed through his mind; so much could go wrong. He knew Merlin wasn’t Ygraine yet he couldn’t help but panic. Pacing did nothing to alleviate his crippling anxiety. 

Merlin had gone into labour. Woken from her sleep by sharp pains, Arthur was jolted into wakefulness when she’d clamped a hand over his bicep in a death grip.

Merlin was pale and sweaty where she lay, propped at an angle by a mountain of pillows as Gaius examined her again. It had been three hours of unbearable pain and Merlin felt like hell. Her contractions were long and severe and not at all the “short bursts of pain” Gaius said they’d be. The breaks were slim and nowhere near long enough for her to feel any kind of relief. 

Three midwives were in attendance, all on standby for the baby’s arrival. Arthur had never felt more useless in his life, he hated seeing Merlin suffer. By the seventh hour Merlin’s nightgown was almost soaked through with sweat, hair plastered to her forehead, eyes half shut with exhaustion. Arthur sat by her head and wiped a cool towel over her face, offering support in any way he could. 

Even if that meant letting his hand be squeezed to death.

She groans and whimpers and breathes through contractions all night. When the sun peaks through the curtains, Merlin has dark bruises under her eyes and is worryingly pale. Gaius gets her to drink water, but doesn’t encourage food intake and Arthur feels guilty when he lunches in the antechamber.

“Is is meant to take this long?” He asks Gaius, glancing with no small amount of concern at Merlin as she pants helplessly.

“Labours are often tedious, sire. There’s nothing we can do, I'm afarid.”

The sun sinks below the horizon and still the baby remains stubbornly within. Arthur quite sure the whole castle knows what happening, his absence during the day would’ve been a big enough hint. Arthur himself is tried from being awake so long so he can’t even begin to imagine how Merlin is feeling. Pain wouldn’t let her rest. It’s approaching midnight and the twenty-four hour mark when Gaius finally says she’s ready to start pushing. Arthur stayed by Merlin through active labour, holding her hand and offering praise and encouragement. 

Merlin cried and screamed herself raw with each push. The pain was intense and horrible and so abhorrent she cursed Arthur’s name. He didn’t blame her, the sounds coming out of her were unsettling and Arthur was disturbed by the violence of childbirth. He really hadn’t thought it would be this bad.

“I can’t...I can’t do this.” It’s sobbed with such despair Arthur’s heart lurches in sympathy. The midwives have taken over from Gaius and were all leaning over the bed watching the processes with practiced concentration.

“Yes, you can.” Arthur says. “You’re doing amazing, Merl, that’s it.”

“Push again, your majesty.” Merlin follows the midwife’s instruction and braces herself, screaming horribly as her efforts bare no fruit. After 24 hours of contractions, Merlin’s energy was sapped to the point she wasn’t sure she could deliver this baby. Merlin pushes again, and Arthur is distressed to see the midwives swapping out blood soaked towels with fresh ones. Merlin sobs and leans back into Arthur. Her head lolls and Arthur’s panic reaches new heights when he sees her glassy eyes, she’s barely conscious.

“What’s happening?” He asks, trying not to sound as terrified as he feels.

“She’s torn herself, milord.” The new towels are already soaked with blood.

Merlin pushes for another two hours, exhaustion not lending her the energy she needs for a quick delivery. But at last, with one final push and a wail of pain, the sound of crying fills the room. Arthur pets Merlin’s damp hair, kisses her forehead and whispers affirmations in her ear while Gaius and the midwives tend the babe.

“It’s a boy, milord.” One of them says quietly, handing over bundle of blankets. Swathed within, was the cutest thing Arthur had even laid eyes on. Pink and wrinkled and so impossibly tiny. A son. _A prince_. Merlin makes a noise and shifts against him, Arthur very carefully transfers their baby into her arms.

Merlin’s eyes are barely open but she’s smiling. Arthur’s so overwhelmed with emotion he’s not bothered by the moisture on his face. The sight of his wife cradling his son had a fierce protectiveness rising within him. So long as there was breath in his body, no harm would come to either of them. And by the Gods he’d be a better father than Uther ever was.

“He’s so tiny.” Merlin whispers, a finger stoking over the baby’s cheek. His hair is light, soft to the touch, and he’s waving a tiny little fist in the air. At the touch of his mother, two eyes squint open but it’s enough to see his eyes. Blue, the same shade as Arthur’s.

“Yeah.” Arthur says just as quiet. He touches his son’s hand and five little fingers capture his. Ridiculously different in size but so unbelievably adorable. “We have a son.”

Merlin laughs, though it’s more a forced breath through her nose because she’s far too tired to be laughing. The baby gurgles and scrunches his face, then yawns. 

“Rowan.” Merlin says, already starting to fall asleep.

“Prince Rowan Pendragon.” The baby babbles in agreement.

\- - 

A private council is held in their chambers. Gaius, Arthur and Leon listen to Elyan as he traces over a map. Merlin watches Rowan where he plays with wooden horses, a blanket tied around his shoulders like a cape.

“We know Gwaine and his men crossed the pass here, at Isulfor, but beyond that…there was no trace. The trail went cold.”

“What of this story that the Fortress of Ismere has been occupied once more?” Arthur asks.

“I heard many rumours, sire, all of them had one name in common. Morgana.”

“Then we have no time to lose.”

“Whether the rumours are true, sire,” Gaius begins. “You may be walking into a trap.”

“The Knights of Camelot do not abandon their own.”

“Morgana knows that. She’ll be waiting for you.”

“These men have fought for me, bled for me.”

“May I make a suggestion?” Merlin interjects after passing a critical eye over the map. “What if you were to take a different route? Approach Ismere from the West.”

“Through Annis’s lands?”

“It would give us the element of surprise, Morgana wouldn’t anticipate it. Annis is an ally, she would grant safe passage.”

“Dispatch a rider immediately. We’ll follow at dawn.”

Gaius and the knights bow and take their leave as Arthur rolls up the map and makes for his desk, side stepping the battlefield of horses on the floor. Merlin leans back against the table in thought, brows pinched. Rowan clutches his favourite toy—a small wooden sword—and toddles his way to Merlin.

“I don’t like this, you have no protection against Morgana.”

“I’ll not leave my men to rot beneath her.”

Rowan stops by Merlin’s feet and looks up at her expectantly. She crouches to scoop him up, little legs locking around her waist as she leans back against the table and presses a kiss to his hair. He’s a spitting image of Arthur, from the big blue eyes and blonde hair to the way he behaves. 

“Let me come with you, my magic is the only thing strong enough to face her.”

“Out of the question.”

“Why? Swords aren’t going to be much help against magic.”

“Because,” Arthur finishes battling with his desk draw and treads toward them with a fond smile. His hand comes up to touch the back of Rowan’s head, who grins up at his father. “I need you here to protect this little man.”

“Going, daddy?”

“I’ve got to get your uncles, buddy.”

“Why?”

“Well, because they’re in trouble.”

“Why?”

Arthur blinks, Merlin tries to hide a smile. Rowan had started that phase of questioning absolutely everything and never being satisfied with the answer. He crosses his arms and stares Arthur down, the movement of his makeshift cape tickling Merlin’s arm.

“Gwaine and Percy just need my help, okay?”

“But why?”

“Come on, love, that’s enough.” Merlin laughs, adjusting her hold. “Why don’t we go and see Will?”

“Okay, mummy.” 

Merlin puts him on the floor and takes his free hand, the other still wrapped around the sword. Just before they reach the door, Rowan pulls free and runs back to Arthur to give him a hug. He only comes up to Arthur’s knee, so he has to bend right over to return the embrace. Satisfied, Rowan patters back to take up Merlin’s hand. They traverse the castle, drawing adoring looks from anyone they pass as Rowan tells her how to play swords and dragons. 

They find Diana and Madeline in the gardens behind the castle. Diana’s older boy is absent but Will lights up when he sees Rowan. Merlin joins the woman where they’re seated as Rowan and Will commandeer sticks and start play fighting.

“Merlin, darling, how are you?” Madeline slides a cup of tea her way.

“About as relaxed as I can be with a two year old and a husband riding out in the morning.”

“I heard Morgana’s back.” Diana mutters, hushed and secretive.

“That is the rumour.” Merlin says, not confirming nor denying. “How have you two been?”

“Accolon keeps pestering me about marriage prospects for the girls,” Madeline recites with a stark tone of exasperation. “They’re not even near their eighteenth summer yet! Honestly, he’s driving me half mad.”

Merlin snorts and takes a mouthful of tea. 

“I’d tell him to shove off.”

“I’m sure he just wants what’s best for them.” Diana reasons.

“He could wait until they’re actually women, Di.”

“I suppose.”

There’s a lull of silence as they watch the boys play, willow leaves whipping through the air and sticks thwacking together while they battle it out.

“Merlin, do you plan on sending Rowan into the ranks?”

“Of course, he’s to be king one day. Arthur’s going to bring him along to training when he’s a bit older, to watch of course. He definitely got his love of swords from his father.”

“As with William.”

“Anything even remotely oblong gets waved around like a sword. Arthur’s been banned from leaving his own laying around and we’ve had to put guards on the armoury.”

Rowan and Will, have exhausted their branches (now snapped and discarded on the floor) have begun rolling around in the grass. They giggle, taking turns to pin one another down. Rowan’s ‘cape’ was askew, flaxen hair tousled and invaded by blades of grass and his face streaked with dirt. William looks much the same but dirt doesn’t show quiet as much against his brown hair.

\- - 

_Voices screaming. Swords clashing. Bodies littered everywhere. Knights of Camelot._

_Arthur and a dark haired man. Fire. The sound of a sword meeting flesh._

_The man watches bitterly as Arthur falls._

Merlin wakes in a cold sweat and gasps, the sight of Arthur asleep beside her doing little to calm her frantic heart. She checks the antechamber where Rowan sleeps peacefully, and steals out of the castle to venture through the dark forest, cloaked against the cold. When she reaches an elevated clearing, Kilgharrah is waiting.

“Young witch, much time has passed since you last called me.”

“Indeed it has.”

“Camelot has a prince once more.”

“Rowan.”

“A fitting name for the keeper of peace, son of Courage and Magic. He will make a fine king indeed.”

Merlin smiles.

“But you did not summon me to discuss the prince, what troubles you?”

“I dreamt Arthur’s death, I saw him wounded, I saw him fall…to the blade of a man I didn’t recognise. What can this mean?”

“The Seer’s gift is well within your capability, Merlin.”

“So it’s true? This man will kill Arthur?”

“I have warned you of Arthur’s doom before, Emrys.”

“Mordred? He’s just a child.”

“That was many years ago.”

“So this battle will pass and Arthur will die?”

“I do not know, young witch, but one thing is for certain: This was no ordinary dream, you should heed the warning you have been given.”

“I’d rather not have it at all, every battle could be this battle.”

“A wise woman is not cowed by knowledge, Merlin. She uses it to guide her. How, exactly, is up to you. Now more than ever it is you and you alone that can keep Arthur safe.”

\- - 

“Arthur has set out for Ismere.”

“As I expected.”

“But he’s approaching from the West, through Annis’s land.”

“You’re sure?”

“Certain.”

“When did he leave?”

“Dawn yesterday, shall I come with you?”

“You’re disappearance will cause suspicion. I hope they haven’t ill-treated you.”

“They’ve been good to me, father.”

“They are Pendragons. They are good for one thing only—death,”

\- - 

A week later, the campaign party returns to Camelot during the night. Merlin whips herself together with a flare of magic and practically runs to the throne room to meet them. The knights turn as she walks in, looking haggard and horribly guilty. Merlin is distraught to see that her husband is not among them.

“We were ambushed.” Leon reports. “Morgana and a band of Saxons attacked us as we crossed the border into Ismere.”

“And what of Arthur?”

“I tried to protect him.” Elyan offers.

“What are you saying?”

“We lost him in the battle. We don’t know what happened to him.”

“So he’s alone in a frozen wasteland and at the mercy of Morgana?”

“It’s possible, my lady.”

“How could Morgana have known that we were approaching from that direction?"

“Someone betrayed us.”

\- - 

Merlin calls a trial in the morning. In red and gold, she exudes formidable strength as she stands before the thrones, knights on her left, council to her right. The doors open and Sefa is dragged before her by two of the guards. She’s tossed to the ground, where she kneels with eyes full of fear. She's new in town, taking work as a kitchen hand.

“The night before Arthur set out for Ismere, there was a meeting of the King’s privy council. Did you hear what was said?”

“No, my lady.”

“And yet you were staring right outside the door.”

“I was bringing your supper.”

“Later that night, where did you go?”

“Nowhere.”

“Don’t make this hard for yourself, all I want is the truth. We both know you left the city through the southern gate. Do you deny it?”

Sefa shakes her head, close to tears.

“Who did you see?”

“My father. I saw my father.”

“And you told him what you’d heard?”

“He only wants what’s rightfully his. Were he a physician or a warrior his skills would be revered. But sorcery? He deserves respect like any man.”

“Sorcery has be welcomed in Camelot for two years. You cannot use old laws to justify yourself and respect is earned, it cannot be bought with blood. Your treachery cost the lives of many good men and the king is missing.”

“I-I didn’t mean to…”

“You have admitted your guilt, you leave me no choice, Sefa. By the laws of Camelot, I find you guilty of treason.”

“No…”

“I sentence you to death.” Merlin looks away from the shattered girl, to the guards. “Take her to the cells.”

\- - 

Gaius accosts her when she's getting some air on the balcony. Golden falcons soar in the air, Rowan jumps to catch them, laughing without restraint in a way only children can; before they learn the meaning of duty and responsibility. She hears Gaius come through the door and soon enough he’s standing in the balcony’s archway.

“Perhaps you should reconsider, that sentence is a harsh one.”

“The law is clear.”

“Sefa was naive and foolish, she doesn’t deserve to die.”

“And she won’t, Gaius. I have no intention of executing her.” Gaius comes closer with his feathered eyebrows furrowed. “My aim is to catch her father. I’m hoping her plight will lure him here.”

“Why did you not tell me this?

“Her predicament must remain genuine. If Ruadan has one spy in Camelot he may have others. If he has any inkling of this, he will not come.”

“It is a dangerous game you’re playing, my lady.”

“Wars cannot be won without taking risks, Gaius.”

Gaius concedes and takes his leave, though he’s skeptical of her plan. Merlin must believe Ruadan will come and even if he does weaponise magic, it will be nothing compared to hers. Rowan has stopped chasing the birds and is staring up at her with curious eyes, toy clutched to his chest. 

“Sad, mummy.”

Merlin seats herself on the floor, uncaring of the dust and dirt as Rowan climbs into her lap and snuggles up to her chest. She rests her chin atop his head and rubs his back. 

“I’m not sad, darling, I’ve just got hard decisions to make.”

“Grown-up stuff?”

“Yeah, grown-up stuff.”

“I miss daddy.”

“Me too, baby. He’ll be back soon, I promise.”

\- - 

The warning bells peal obnoxiously in the quiet of night as Leon enters her chamber to confirm Ruadan’s presence in the castle. The entrusts the knight with Rowan, sleepy and confused by the bells. He’s never heard them before. Merlin finds Ruadan in the vaults, a severe looking man with magic of decent potency but still he is no match for her.

Restrained and bitter, Merlin forces him to kneel before her even as a score of knights surround him, blades spiking the circle. She doesn’t miss the Druid’s mark on his neck, and wonders why those with magic still fight against Camelot. Sefa escapes by Merlin’s grace, but Ruadan is afforded no such mercy. 

\- - 

It takes yet another week, but at long last, Arthur rides through the gates of Camelot and he’s not alone. Gwaine and Percy, the other lost knights, they’ve all returned. Merlin gathers Rowan and runs with speed enough to make him squeal in delight. Slowing to regain composure, Merlin enters the courtyard and nearly cries when she sees Arthur deep in conversation with some of the knights.

At the sight of Arthur, Rowan makes grabby hands and when Merlin sets him down, he runs straight to his father. 

“Daddy!” Arthur turns to the voice with an idiotic grin, completely ignoring his knights to crouch down and spread his arms. Rowan barrels into him and laughs adorably when Arthur scoops him up and spins him around. Arthur doesn’t care that his knights are watching as he kisses his son’s head and hoists him onto his hip. Uther was a damned fool to deny public affection.

Rowan leans into Arthur’s chest, utterly content, and grins when Arthur whispers something in his ear. The toddler points at Merlin, and Arthur follows the direction, smiling as he makes his way forward.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, my love.” He kisses her in a way that’s definitely improper and Rowan scrunches his nose is disgust. Merlin pulls him into an embrace, mindful of their son, and goes rigid when she meets the eyes of someone over Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur notices and beacons him over.

Merlin feels as though she’s been plunged into ice. It’s the man from her dream, walking straight towards them and she has to resist the urge to step back when he finally arrives.

“Look who I found in the North,” Arthur says, clamping a hand onto the man’s shoulder. “Mordred here, saved my life. You remember Mordred?”

There’s a pause where Merlin takes in Arthur’s words. No matter the deed, she couldn’t shake the suspicion that had taken root in her mind, potent and unwavering.

“Merlin?”

She forces a smile.

“Yes, I remember. Thank you for bringing my husband home.”

Mordred says nothing in return, but his smile is far more genuine and his eyes are warm, even in their unnerving stare. Arthur takes her hand and with Rowan on his hip, he leads her into the castle. Merlin can feel Mordred’s gaze long after stone comes between them.

\- - 

Mordred’s knighting ceremony is held two days thereafter though Merlin finds it difficult to enjoy the occasion. She can scarcely believe it’s the same boy from all those years ago, kneeling before Arthur with the Pendragon crest on his back, positively beaming with pride. Merlin cannot say for certain what the future holds, but one thing is for certain.

The die has been cast and for better or worse, Albion’s great trial has begun.

\- - 

In the lead up to the anniversary of Arthur’s coronation, a weathered old woman arrives at court. She’s in rags, patchy grey hair hung in knots around her papery face and arthritic hands curled around an ivy horn. When asked, the ailing woman claims it has the power to summon spirits of the dead.

Gaius calls it the Horn of Cathbad, a magical artefact thought to be lost long before the purge. A tool used of High Priestesses used when they gathered at the Great Stones of Nemeton on Beltane to summon the spirits of their ancestors for guidance. Merlin can sense it’s magic; neutral and malleable.

\- - 

Merlin watches the shiny apple come to a frantic stop by her dress, it’s determined roll stopped by the cushion of fabric. With a mildly concerned frown, she observes the dozen other apples as they roll about the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Arthur says, though the roaming fruit says otherwise. “Thinking.”

“You thinking? Now I’m really getting worried.”

“Shut up.”

Merlin collects the apples and floats them into a neat ball, when she reaches for the upturned fruit bowl, Arthur slams his hand onto it. Merlin raises an eyebrow and openly stares.

“Leave it.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m telling you to and I’m the King of Camelot.”

“Right…why?”

Arthur sighs, long suffering, and lifts the bowl. Merlin sends the patient apples back into their cradle even as she stares at the table. She waits for Arthur to elaborate, gaze flicking between him and the ivory horn. 

“This is the only chance I’ll have to see my father again. I can’t let it pass.”

“Arthur…this is powerful magic.“

“There isn’t a day that passes when I don’t think of the things I’d wished I’d said to him. If you were given the same chance, to see your father, talk to him, wouldn’t you do the same?”

\- - 

“Father.”

“Arthur.”

“I thought I’d never see you again. There are times when I feel so alone, I wish more than anything that you were by my side.”

“If I were at your side, I fear you would not like all that I have to say.”

“What do you mean?”

“Many of the decisions you’ve made since you’ve become king go against all that I taught you.”

“I have done what I believed to be right.”

“You have ignored our tradition, out ancient lores. You have allowed common men to become knights—“

“And they are some of the finest knights that Camelot’s ever known.”

“They question your decisions. They make you look weak.”

“Listening to others is a sign of strength, not weakness.”

“How do you expect anyone to fear a king that does not even know his own mind?”

“I don’t want my people to respect me because they fear me.”

“Then they will not respect you at all. Your marriage should have served to form an alliance with another kingdom but you choose to marry a _witch.”_

“I married for love. I love Merlin…more than I can express.”

“There are some things that are more important than love. It is your duty to strengthen and protect the kingdom but you allow magic to poison it, you knight a Druid, you put an enchantress on the throne. You have failed.”

“I have always strived to make you proud.”

“How can I be proud of a son who ignores everything that I taught him, who is destroying my legacy?”

“I’ve brought peace to the kingdom…I have a son to continue our bloodline.”

“At what price? You think peace can be negotiated with magic? That abomination you call a son shares blood with a witch! Even now, another one festers inside her. This _peace_ will not last. If you are not strong, the kingdom will fall. Go now.”

“This can’t be the last time I see you.”

“Go. Think about all I have said to you. It isn’t too late.”

\- - 

Arthur doesn’t tell her what happened at the stones but whatever it was, it left him sullen and quiet. Following his return, something feels horribly wrong. Merlin can’t place it, but the air feels…choked, like there’s something sucking all the calm from the atmosphere. Doors had adopted a habit of slamming themselves open angrily, a candelabra tried to sever the round table during council, frigid winds hissed down corridors that had no open windows.

“What?”

“At the Stones of Nemeton, as the veil closed, did you look back at your father?”

Arthur flipped his hand. “I may have glanced around for a second, why?”

“In that second, you unleashed Uther’s spirit.”

“You think my father is responsible for these things?”

“The round table represents everything that’s changed since you became king. He’s angry with you and that makes him dangerous.”

“I know my father, he wouldn’t do these things.”

“I think he’d do anything to protect his legacy.”

“Enough.” Arthur says, “That’s enough.”

After everything that’s happened, it’s wildly irritating that Arthur doesn’t believe her. She’s sure irritation shows on her face because Arthur’s gets a dangerous edge to it. A hardness around his mouth that hints at a wildfire of anger. The door squeaks open, they both turn.

Rowan comes into the room with a pout on his face and a fleece blanket clutched in his hand. His blonde locks are unruly, a telltale sign he’s been tossing about in bed. After rubbing at his eye, Rowan looks between his parents and settles his sulky gaze on Merlin.

“Can’t sleep.” He mumbles, dropping the blanket to make grabby hands.

Merlin sees Arthur’s anger ebb away, but it’s still present in the contour of his shoulders. Ignoring her husband, Merlin indulges the sleepy boy and scoops him up, grabbing the blanket as she does. Rowan snuggles into her neck, nose cold against her skin. 

“Come on, baby.”

\- - 

It didn’t take long for Rowan to settle into sleep. Merlin hummed a lullaby, the same one Hunith used to sing when she was a girl, and Rowan drifted off. She stroked her son’s hair. Strikingly blonde but not straight like Arthur’s, but grows in soft waves. With a kiss to his temple, Merlin leaves him to rest.

As she walks the halls, a hissing wind blows passed. The sconces dance in it. Merlin pauses, magic prickling the hair on the back of her neck.

“Is someone there?”

She doesn’t expect an answer, isn’t surprised when she doesn’t get one. A window opens, bangs around in a wind that isn’t there. Merlin takes cautious steps, pulls it closed when she’s close enough. As soon as one shuts, another opens. The air is stifling, choked by something dark, unnatural. A spirit.

Uther.

An unseen forces levels her, knocking the breath from her chest as she collides with the floor. Disorientated, Merlin barely has a second to think before she’s dragged across the floor. Flailing, terrified, until her foot catches on an alcove.

The spirit releases her and she pants, heart racing, eyes scanning but she can’t see anything amiss. Merlin gets to her feet and presses up against the wall. She keeps it there, sidestepping down the hall, desperate to be in her chambers. Her ears pick up whirring and she spins, just in time to duck the sharp end of a spear. It thuds into the stone, right where she was standing.

Merlin doesn’t waste a second more and sprints all the way to her rooms.

\- - 

“He wouldn’t do this.”

“I know how hard this is for you, sire, but you can’t ignore it anymore.”

“I’ve always known my father could be cruel, but why would he do this to Merlin? He knows how much I love her.”

“Perhaps, he is punishing you for legalising magic.”

“He could’ve killed her.” Arthur whispers, more to himself than anything. When Merlin told him of the attack, the spear, he almost hadn’t believed her. But with the turbulent swirl of fear in her eyes, he had no choice but to face the nasty truth. Family or not, anyone who threatened his wife had to go.

Resolved, he asks: “Gaius, what do you know of ghosts?”

\- - 

Merlin stares distrustfully at the corked bottle. Something green and murky resides within and she scrunches her nose at the sight of it. Gaius's brews never tastes pleasant. Across the table, Arthur is frowning.

“These potions will allow you to see Uther in spirit form. Once you’re in his presence, Arthur, you must blow the horn. It is the only way you can force him to go back to the spirit world.”

Merlin plucks her bottle from the table, uncorks it, takes a whiff, and gags. Arthur’s holding his like it might bite, lip curled.

“Is it safe?”

Gaius takes a dramatic breath but doesn’t answer straight away. “I can’t say I’m entirely sure.”

Great. Merlin swallows and smacks her lips, but raises the tonic to her mouth. Arthur doesn’t. She narrows her eyes.

“What are you waiting for?”

“To see if it’s safe.”

“So if I don’t die, you’ll take yours?”

“Precisely.”

“Greatest warrior, my ass.” Merlin scoffs. “Big baby.”

Arthur’s lip twitches with a smothered smile and Merlin sighs. It’s a reluctant consumption but Merlin tosses the liquid back with her eyes squeezed shut. It tastes like the back end of a toad, but she’s careful not to show it. 

“Well,” Arthur chirps. “At least we know it doesn’t kill you instantly.”

Arthur takes his dose and Merlin’s gleeful to see his face scrunch with disgust. He gags and chokes. Merlin nods, pleased, when Arthur looks up with tears in his eyes.

“That—oh! That is the foulest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“Sorry, did I forget to tell you about that part?”

\- - 

It’s well into the night as they patrol the corridors. Merlin tries not to flinch at every shadow but Arthur doesn’t tease her when she does. An hour into their ghost hunt, they bump into Leon, who looks more than confused to see them out and about. 

“Arthur. Merlin.”

“Leon.” They say in unison. Leon’s brows twitch into a bewildered frown.

“Is everything all right, my lord?”

“It’s perfectly fine.” Arthur says, face blank. “We’re…Merlin, tell Leon what we’re doing.”

“We’re…” She flounders and flips her hand at Arthur, drawing a blank. “I’m teaching him some poetry.”

Arthur takes a breath, eye brows climbing into his hairline, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“Poetry?” Leon ponders, voice dancing with amusement. It’s blatantly obvious he doesn’t believe them but he doesn’t question it, clearly enjoying their choice of lie.

“I…love poetry.” Arthur confesses, straight-faced and everything.

Merlin tries not to laugh. So does Leon.

“I was as surprised as you are, he can’t get enough of it!” She says, unable to help herself. She knows damn well Arthur’s profound love of poetry will have spread like wildfire by tomorrow. Leon only has to tell Gwaine, and then the whole castle will know. 

“I’ll leave you to your poetry then, my lord. My lady.” Leon bows and hides as smile as he does, then he moves past them to continue his patrol.

“Poetry.” Arthur says flatly. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

“Oh, what did you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. Something that doesn’t make me sound like a love struck girl.”

“Well, next time, think of your own damn excuse.”

Arthur’s eyes fly over her shoulder and Merlin turns to see someone’s coat tails slithering around the corner.

“What was that?”

“That was my father.”

They give chase, all the way into the servants quarters but there’s no sign of Uther. Arthur’s quiet, a displeased set to his shoulders, mouth pressed into a grim line. It’s a quiet search, Arthur doesn’t offer conversation and Merlin’s quite happy to keep her own silence. They circle back to the throne room. A biting wind snuffs Arthur’s torch. Footsteps approach. The wind hisses.

“I know it’s you, father.”

When they turn back around, Uther is sprawled in the throne. Deathly blue with hollowed cheeks and slick hair. He looks more dangerous in death than in life. 

“Why are you doing this?”

“I did not spend my entire life building this kingdom to see my own son destroy it.”

“You tried to kill Merlin.”

“For your own good. How can a witch—“ He spits the word. “—be queen?”

“Merlin is wise and strong, and I trust her more than anyone.”

“And that is your weakness. You put far too much trust in other people.”

“I would rather not rule at all than rule alone.”

“Your whole life, I tried to prepare you for the day you would become king. Did you learn nothing?”

“I watched you rule. I learned that if you trust no one, you’ll always live in fear. I learned that persecuting an entire religion bares only discord and distrust. Your hatred came from fear, not strength.”

“How dare you?” Uther hisses, rising ominously from the throne.

“I loved and respected you, but I have to rule the kingdom in my own way. I have to do what I believe to be right.”

“You have done nothing right. Perhaps I would have been better off without a son.”

“Maybe so, if it wasn’t for your selfish desperation for an heir, my mother would still be alive and magic never would have been banned.”

The statement hangs heavy in the air. Merlin’s appalled to hear such a thing come out of his mouth and she can tell it struck a nerve with Uther, but Arthur pushes on.

“I’ve done everything right. I have atoned for your mistakes. I have brought peace to the kingdom. I have secured the Pendragon name. I have listened to my people where you ignored them. I have ruled with my heart when you ruled only with hate.”

Merlin’s heart soars with pride. Arthur always has doubts about his decisions, to hear him talk about himself with such conviction almost makes her cry. Because finally, Arthur is seeing himself as others do; fair and just and kind and everything a king should be.

“I will not allow you to destroy all that I built!”

“Then you’ll have to kill me. I’m not you, father. I can’t rule the way you did.”

“Camelot must come before all else.” Uther’s eyes are ablaze with anger. “Even you.”

A Camelot shield peals away from the wall and beelines toward Arthur. It moves, too quick to dodge, but Merlin’s magic acts instinctually. A transparent wall flies up and the wayward shield clatters against it, dropping to the floor uselessly.

“I think that’s quite enough, Uther.”

He looks disgusted by the colour in her eyes. “You don’t belong here.”

“This is my kingdom.” He seethes, teeth bared manically. “It is you who doesn’t belong here, you _filthy_ sorceress! I will not allow you and your kind to poison my kingdom!”

Uther’s voice booms around the walls, his ire focused solely on Merlin. He stalks forward, murder in his eyes, so Merlin lets her own ignite. Uther reels back from the display, his pause gives enough time for the spell to take root. Fire, white-blue and blazing, encircles Uther. There’s no escape for him now.

“Arthur is a better and more worthy king that you ever were.”

Arthur steps up to his father, protectively blocking Merlin from his view, and he raises the horn. 

“Arthur, no. Please. Whatever I’ve done, I’ve done for Camelot.”

“You’ve had your turn. Now it’s mine.”

The horn blares.

\- - 

Arthur takes a long draw from his waterskin, the liquid cool and refreshing in his throat. The sun’s heat is unrelenting, beating down on the training field like it has something to prove. Armour-clad as he is, Arthur’s skin is irritatingly hot, and sweat tacks beneath his collar. He watches indulgently, leaning up on his elbow.

Gwaine rolls on the floor dramatically, grunting and groaning. Rowan stands above him, whacking his wooden sword against Gwaine’s stomach with gusto. The knight pretends to die, eyes closed, tongue flopped out theatrically. Satisfied, Rowan raises his sword and goes after Elyan. There’s part of him that always gets warm with pride whenever his son wields a sword. He’ll be a great warrior someday.

He hacks at Elyan’s leg, blonde hair bouncing with every hit. Elyan falls with a cry of pain and Rowan finishes him off as he did Gwaine. Lethal whacks to a chain-mailed torso. Only when Elyan spasms and dies, does Rowan bask in his triumph. The other knights cheer and clap as the little prince holds his sword up and puffs out his chest. Percival arrives to avenge his brothers, and Rowan squeals when Percival tries to grab him.

Giggling, he escapes and makes a beeline for Arthur. It’s a toddlers run, mildly uncoordinated, and he giggles the entire way over, hair flying out behind him. It’s in desperate need of a cut. With flushed cheeks and a toothy smile, Rowan flops down onto Arthur lap, arms braced against the steel breatplate. His eye are shinning with joy, bright blue and carefree.

“Got ‘em, Daddy.” He states proudly, sprawling over Arthur’s chest to trace the etching of his armour. 

“Of course you did,” Arthur says. “You’re a Pendragon.”

“Wanna sword.”

“You can have one—“ Rowan’s face lights up. “—when you’re older.” He groans and drops his head dramatically.

“Not fair.” He pouts, a petulant frown settling on his face. “Mummy says that.”

“That’s because your mother is wise.”

“But-“

“Ah-ah, no but’s. Your sword will come if you’re patient.”

“What’s that?”

“It means you need to wait.” 

Rowan groans again, like having to wait is the most horrible thing in the world. Arthur can’t help but laugh; only because he was the same way when he was a boy. He had always demanded everything, he never leaned patience. But that made him an arrogant teenager and an entitled prince. Arthur doesn’t want his son to grow up like he did. Uther certainly wasn’t a model of good parenting.

Rowan is halfway to 3 and has the entire castle wrapped around his pinky. The knights are utterly incapable of saying no to him and the kitchen staff always give him sweets. It’s the damn eyes, Arthur suspects, all wide and innocent that make even the sternest of characters melt. Even the kennel master—a withered brick of a man—smiles when Rowan skips in to pet the newest litter of hutning hounds. 

Arthur couldn’t be happier. 

Especially considering his wife was seven months with child. It wasn’t planned, certainly not expected. Though Arthur had suspicions ever since Uther’s haunting. It was something his father said, in the veil, but he hadn’t thought to bring it up. This pregnancy was easier on Merlin. Morning sickness was few and far between, mild when it came and she said there’d been no headaches.

Rowan said he was going to run away if he got a sister.

_“Girls are gross!”_

_“Yeah?” Merlin asks with an amused smile, hand resting over her bump. “Why is that?”_

_“‘Because.”_

_“Does this have anything to do with Lisbeth?”_

_Sir Pellinor's daughter, who has an adorable crush on Rowan. Every time the prince goes to the market, Lisbeth glues herself to his side and stares dreamily at him. She’s also made the executive decision that they’ll get married when they’re older. At the sound of her name, Rowan scrunches his face._

_“She kisses me! Don’t wanna sister, she'll be gross too.”_

The bigger Merlin’s stomach grew, the more adamant Rowan became that it was going to be a boy. He seemed to think he could will it into existence. Arthur found it amusing to no end, but he did hope the little boy wouldn’t be too disappointed with a sister. It wasn’t exactly something they could control. He wasn’t opposed to a daughter, though he too, secretly hoped for a boy.

\- - 

Mithian’s return is unexpected. Exhausted, she had arrived in the night as though death itself was on her heel. Merlin and Arthur received her at court in the morning.

“They came at night, without warning. We were unprepared. We could not hold them.”

“This was three days ago, you say?”

Mithian nods, defeated, Merlin’s heart clenches at the sight.

“His men…they showed no mercy. He cut us down like corn.” The princess's face contorted in grief for her people, tears gathering.

“Odin has no care for the suffering he causes.” Arthur says.

“And your father?” Merlin prompts softly, a protective hand resting over her belly.

“He was badly wounded. But we managed to escape. We made it almost as far as the border but he could not continue any further.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “Odin’s men will be searching for us. It’s only a matter of time before they find him.”

“I see.”

“My father is an old man. He cannot fend for himself. I have no one else to turn to but you, Arthur.” Mithian looks between them, eyes wet. “You’re my only hope.”

Arthur looks to his wife. Merlin nods faintly, though worry clouds her eyes.

“Mithian, I understand how you must be feeling, and we will do everything in our power to help you.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

\- - 

Her fingers move mechanically, threading brushed stands over, under, over, under. Merlin ties off the braid, ribbon smooth in her fingers. A silk nightgown stretches over her eight month bump, soothing against her tender skin. She watches her husband stare pensively at a map.

“Arthur, why have you agreed to help Mithian?”

He looks at her, then back at the map. “Because Nemeth is our ally.”

“One small slip and Camelot could find itself without a king, our children without a father.” 

“That’s a risk I’m prepared to take.”

“For Nemeth of for yourself?”

Arthur looks up again, frowning, and leans back in his chair. “What do you mean, 'for myself?'”

“It was Odin who took your father’s life.” Merlin leans against the archway’s pillar. “You can’t deny that you’ve been waiting for a chance to retaliate.”

Features smoothing out, Arthur stands and moves away from the table. “Whatever I feel about Odin has nothing to do with this.”

“Really?” She asks skeptically.

“Absolutely not. This is about helping our friends. No more. No less.” 

Arthur stops in front of her, warm hand coming to rest over the swell of her stomach, the other cupping her cheek. The babe moves beneath his hand. Arthur smiles, swipes his thumb across her cheekbone.

“Good.” She says, brevity softened with a smile of her own. “I just wanted to be sure.”

“No, you were right to ask. I rely on your honesty, Merlin, and I love you for it.”

Arthur leans to press a kiss to her forehead, head ducking to do so. He dips lower, kissing the crown of her bump. The babe moves happily under their father’s attention. As Arthur goes back to the map, Merlin can only hope he returns unscathed. 

\- - 

The queen stands on the steps, Rowan’s hand clutched in hers and Mithian at her side. They watch as Arthur and the knights ready for travel. It’s the first time Merlin’s been out in the open for some time. While this pregnancy hasn’t been quite as draining, she still takes to her chamber during this late stage. 

“I must apologise, my lady.” Mithian says, eyes downcast. 

“Whatever for?”

“I regret drawing Arthur away from you at this time. It cannot be easy watching your husband depart for such peril.”

Merlin leans over best she can and smiles down at her little boy. There’s a sulky downturn to his mouth, his eyes sad. Rowan always gets upset when Arthur has to leave them for extended periods.

“Why don’t you go say bye-bye to Daddy?” 

Rowan nods and walks carefully down the steps with his arms splayed for balance. When he reaches the bottom, he runs straight to Arthur and clings to his leg. Merlins sighs, brining a hand to her belly.

“No.” Merlin says. “But he will return.”

Mithian glances sideways, to Hilda. Merlin pretends not the notice the guilt that lingers around the princess.

“Just…” She looks at Hilda again. “I truly am sorry. I wouldn’t—I’d never want to take a father from his children, nor a husband from his wife.”

“Arthur is an honourable man, Mithian. Camelot is more than happy to help you and your father. Odin is a plague on this land.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

\- - 

Mithian leads the men to an ancient tomb, but Rodor is nowhere to be seen. Dread settles uncomfortably in Arthur’s stomach. Empty, and Mithian is looking decidedly guilty.

“I don’t understand. Where’s your father?”

She shakes her head. “He’s not here.”

“Then where is he?” He asks bluntly, voice harsh.

“Arthur, I—“

Odin’s men filter into the room like ants and it’s only him and Percival, the others are outside. Anger pulses through his veins at the betrayal. It was a trap all along. Mithian is teary in the corner but Arthur really can’t summon a shred of care, not after what she’d done. There’s a fight, it’s horribly brief. They’re two and against twenty after all.

“What wrong have I done you?!” He snaps. She just shakes her head again.

“Arthur Pendragon. At last.”

Odin structs forward, eyes gleaming maliciously. Rodor is dragged in behind him.

“I’ve waiting many years for this moment. You killed my son. You took what was most precious from me and now you will pay the forfeit.”

“Not a moment too soon.” Arthur glances at the voice and finds Hilda looming in the entranceway. “You are not alone in having waited for this moment, Odin. Appearances can be deceiving, dear brother.”

Arthur hangs his head. “Morgana.” He looks back to Odin. “My father’s life. That wasn’t enough?”

“No.”

“So be it. But understand this, Odin. You kill me, and you’ll have all of Camelot to answer to.”

Odin scoffs. “Camelot is nothing without its king.”

Arthur can’t help but laugh at his ignorance. “Then you don’t know my wife. Or my knights. They will hunt you, and they will find you, and they will not rest until they’re done. When my son grows up he’ll be eager to avenge his father.”

“I will deal with your knights soon enough. I think I’ll take you bitch wife for myself, I hear she’s a pretty little thing. Kill your whelp of a son, drown that new baby.”

Arthur doesn’t react to the threat, refuses to give Odin the satisfaction. The thought of him touching Merlin is enough to make his blood boil, but any man who dares to threaten his children is calling for their own execution. Before Odin can raise his sword, the ground gives a mightily roar. The floor trembles, aged stone starts to crumble. It’s magic, and magic he recognises. Even from such distance she can move the very earth.

He and Percival take the distraction and break free. They grab Mithian, Rodor and they run. The knights are waiting outside and together, they flee into the forest. No one questions the unnatural earthquake but the knights seem to know exactly what caused it. 

Arthur sends the others to safety and leads Odin away. This was his fight to settle. Odin meets him in a dead-end gorge and smiles gleefully. The men at his back move forward.

“No!” He snaps. “I want to do this myself.”

Arthur is younger, faster, more skilled. Emotion makes Odin sloppy and Arthur has no problem brining the other man to his knees. He draws his sword up until it presses dangerously against Odin’s throat.

_”Arthur, stop.”_

He pauses, bewildered by the sound of Merlin’s voice.

_”Think about what you’re doing. What good will this achieve?”_

She must be scrying. Arthur tuts, she really shouldn’t be using so much energy.

_”How many times have you talked about uniting this land? Will killing this man bring that dream any closer?”_

Arthur feels anger bleeding out of him. Merlin always did have that effect, the one person who could navigate the cloud of his rage.

“This is no answer.” He says to Odin. “I kill you, your people will seek their revenge. A war without end.”

“There is no other way.” Odin spits.

“There is another way.” Arthur prefaces. “In return for your life, you must restore Rodor to the throne of Nemeth.”

“Even if I agree, it solves nothing. What about us, Pendragon?”

“A truce. Binding out kingdoms to peace.”

“Never!”

Arthur’s temper flares and he presses his sword against Odin’s neck. “Is this what you want? To die here, now, knowing that you condemned this land to war? Odin, you cannot let it end like this…the blood will never wash off.”

“You killed my son.”

“You killed my father!” Arthur takes a breath and tries to reign his anger in. “We have both lost much at the other’s hand. Let us lose no more. I am offering you the chance to end this. Take it.”

Arthur snatches the blade away and javelins it into the hillside. He offers his hand to Odin. 

“Take it.”

Odin’s face twitches with ill-concealed emotion. “So be it.” He clasps Arthur’s forearm. “A truce…it is.”

\- - 

Mithian watches from the bed as Gaius tends a wound on Rodor’s bicep. Arthur stands across from them, his arm around Merlin’s waist and his other hand behind Rowan’s head. The boy stands close to his father’s leg.

“Odin has withdrawn his army from Nemeth and its lands.”

“All thanks to you.” Mithian says. “Arthur…”

“Mithian. You don’t need to apologise. You had no choice, I would have done the same thing had it been my father.”

“Camelot is fortunate to have a king such as you.”

“It’s I that’s fortunate. Camelot would be nothing were it not for the courage and loyalty of its friends.”

Mithian smiles. Arthur reaches down and lifts Rowan onto his hip, and moves his hand to Merlin’s lower back. Mithian and Rodor are left in peace as Arthur guides his family out of the room.

\- - 

Rowan rustles intently through the pendulous branches of the willow. He wraps them around his arms and pretended to be a monstrous beast. William has a branch between his legs and another in his hand—a valiant knight atop his steed, battling the monster that terrorises his kingdom. Diana chastises Will when he pokes Rowan in the face. 

“How long now, Merlin?”

“It’s a matter of days, I think.”

Diana hums and takes a draw of her tea, hawk eyes locked on her son. The boys are laughing hysterically now as they try to untangle themselves from the tree. 

“Excited?” 

“In ways. I’ll definitely miss my sleep. Rowan was an atrocious babe, I don’t think we slept at all those first few months.”

“Tell me about it, William was such a pain in the ass when it came to sleep.”

Merlin laughs through her nose and reclines into the chair. It’s metal, designed to withstand weather so not the most comfortable of places. Eyes closing, she tilts her face upward to soak up the sun’s warmth. Summer was roasting this year, but today offers benign heat. Comfortable silence falls over the women, the ambient noise of their sons playing a familiar sound. 

Merlin can’t gauge the time, but a short while later, something changes. A steady pressure builds low in her abdomen before releasing. Merlin's eyes snap open at the slow trickle of fluid that follows. She feels her heart start to thump, anxious as memories of last time race to the forefront.

“Di…”

Diana hums, but it takes a moment for her to actually look at Merlin. When she does, her lips parts and her brows climb. Whatever she sees on Merlin’s face has her jumping from her seat and rushing across the gardens. There’s a frantic communication between her and the posted guard, then he’s vanishing into the castle and Diana is at Merlin’s side.

“Guess their ears are burning, come on then.” 

As Diana helps Merlin to her feet, a couple of guards arrive and usher the boys away. There’s no pain, not yet, so Merlin makes it to the door of their chambers before Arthur catches up.

“Is it happening?”

Merlin nods. Arthur’s flushed and dressed in armour. He must’ve come straight from training. Diana respectively curtseys and after an encouraging hug, she leaves them alone. Arthur guides her to the bed, settles her against a mountain of pillows, and calls impatiently for Gaius.

“Stop yelling, would you?”

“Sorry, sorry.” 

Merlin shoves her hand into the air in askance, then Arthur is enfolding it in his own and kneeling by the bed. He kisses her knuckles, stokes her hair, fiddles with the pillows, and strokes her hair again. Merlin squeezes the blood from his hand when the first contraction comes. It all happens rather quickly after that. Merlin had prepared herself for tedious delivery, but after about six hours, she gives her final push. 

She sobs when the baby starts crying, overwhelmed with relief. The midwives take the wailing infant to clean and swathe. One of them returns moments later with a quite baby, wrapped in red fleece, tiny and pink.

“Another boy, Your Majesty.”

Merlin cradles her new son closely and stares down at him in wonder. She’d forgotten how tiny newborns were. Arthur’s behind her, as he was with the first birth, and he reaches around to touch his son. He’s got a shock of black hair and a button nose, pouty lips and clear blue eyes.

“He’s beautiful.” Arthur whispers, awestruck. Blessed with two sons. “What will you name him?”

When Merlin first fell pregnant, they’d struck a deal. If it was a girl, Arthur could name her. If it was a boy, the honour went to Merlin. She contemplated it, considered naming him after her father but it didn’t feel right. The babe wriggled in the blanket until a determined little foot found its way out. Merlin smiled.

“Alasdair.” She smiled lovingly. “Prince Alasdair Pendragon.”

\- - 

Rowan was elated upon meeting his new brother. He grabbed the crib’s barred side and went on his tiptoes to see the baby. Arthur and Merlin can’t help but melt when Rowan reaches in and gently takes Alasdair’s hand.

“He’s small.” Rowan observes. “Dark hair, like mummy.”

Alasdair grips his brother’s hand with vigour and kicks his legs out.

“Can he play?”

“Not yet, little man. You’ll have to wait until he’s a bit bigger.” Arthur says, reaching into the cot and gathering the babe in his arms. Alasdair is dwarfed by Arthur’s hands and the sight makes Merlin’s heart swell with love.

\- - 

Morgana returns to the shadows after her latest failure and Camelot enjoys two years of peace in her absence. Hunith came to visit a couple of months after Alasdair’s arrival. She stayed in the castle for two weeks and spent the entire time doting on her grandchildren. It worked out perfectly because Hunith was happy to babysit while Arthur and Merlin dealt with Odin’s visit.

He only stayed a scant couple of days but it went a long way to consolidate the peace between Camelot and Cornwall. With Odin honouring the truce, that meant Essetir and Amata were the only kingdoms that hadn’t signed a peace treaty with Camelot. Lot had been growing bold as of late; raiding Camelot’s borders, trying to sniff out weakness. One Essetirian spies had been apprehended within the castle walls and Merlin knew they’d be pushed to war if peace couldn’t be negotiated.

Other than that, Camelot faced no adversary. 

Rowan was almost five and very proud of the fact. He showed more and more interest in sword fighting as his dexterity improved but Arthur still wouldn’t give him one. It was a hot topic of debate between the prince and the king, fuelled by Rowan’s increased stubbornness.He was Arthur’s twin in every way. 

Rowan's hair had lost most of it’s curl and now lay relatively flat over his forehead, still the same ash blonde it had always been. Pouty lips and stormy blue eyes were an exact duplicate of Arthur’s and Rowan had that same stubborn entitlement Arthur did when she first met him. He was petulant when tired, indignant when denied and intrigued by swords. Certainly to denying who _his_ father was.

Alasdair was Rowan’s favourite person in the world. Rowan spent a large majority of his time with the knights and he always, without fail, relayed everything he's seen to his little brother. Alasdair didn’t understand half of what he said, he’s only two after all. But he always listened wide-eyed, entranced by the level of excitement Rowan speaks with. 

“Dog, mummy!”

Merlin’s magic coils around the peas with golden threads. A lively puppy runs laps around Alasdair’s plate, diving into the gravy puddle and rolling on its back. He claps, laughing bubbling from his chest. Across the table, Rowan shovels his own peas like a starved man.

“Slow down, Ro.” Arthur chastises after a sip of wine. “You’ll choke.”

Rowan slows to a respectable pace and grins innocently. The action costs him a pea. Merlin watches, amused, as his sits straighter and clasps his hands neatly on the table. A mimicked gesture that he’s picked up from Arthur during council that he now uses whenever he’s about to demand something.

“Dad,” He starts, chin raised.

Arthur leans back in his chair and clasps his own hands, nodding. 

“I’m five soon and you should let me have a sword.” Arthur raises his eyebrows and fights to keep a smile back. “Because I’m a grown up.”

Merlin hides her own smile in a goblet.

“I don’t know—“

“Please, dad? Uncle Gwaine said princes have swords and I’m a prince. He says I need to protect the ladies." Rowan gestures toward Merlin. "Like Mum! I gotta protect Mum, Dad.”

“Your uncle is a varmint.”

“I thought he was a knight?” Rowan says with a frown.

“He is, love, and I think it’s wonderful that you want to protect people. Don’t you agree, Arthur?”

Arthur glowers at her. He’s been far more reluctant about this whole sword business than Merlin and she takes great amusement in this conversation. 

“Yeah! Don’t you agree, Dad?”

“I do agree…” He concedes, jabbing a carrot resentfully. “Protecting people who cannot protect themselves is a very honourable thing to do.”

“Exactly, and I want to be honourable. Just like you, Daddy.”

It’s the ‘daddy’ that does it. Arthur’s pathetically weak for that word and Rowan knows it. Merlin’s quite proud of the power play, she smiles with unabashed delight. Rowan stares pleadingly at Arthur and bats his lashes, pouting. Arthur throws his hands up.

“Fine, fine. Yes, you can have a sword for your birthday.”

Rowan clamours out of his chair and launches himself onto Arthur’s lap. He throws his arms around his father’s neck, blanket-cape bunching around his shoulders. It’s the same one he put on when he was two and he’s worn it everyday since. Because _I’m a knight of Camelot, Mum. ___

__“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you, Dad!”_ _

__\- -_ _

__Rowan flies through the castle with a grin stamped on his face. Servants move aside indulgently as he passes. He’s careful on the stairs, using the wall for support but jumping over the last two because it’s fun. At long last, he reaches the armoury. He’s memorised the training schedules so he knows they’ll all be there. Or at least who’s left, the others are on patrol._ _

__“Uncle Gwaine!” He yells breathlessly, stumbling to a stop in front of the sweaty knight._ _

__“Ah, the man himself. We were just talking about you.”_ _

__“Really?”_ _

__“Yep,” Gareth says, pocking his head around a lance stand. “Saying what an awesome knight you’ll be.”_ _

__“And how you’ll be even better than your father.” Bedivere pipes from across the room. Caradoc nods his head in a agreement._ _

__“No one’s better than my dad.” Rowan states proudly, folding his arms. “Haven’t seen any of you beat him.” He teases._ _

__“Is that so?” Elyan questions, plonking himself down beside Gwaine. “You don’t reckon you’ll be able to level him?”_ _

__“Not yet.” Says Rowan. “Gotta wait ’til he’s an old man. Then I’ll get him.”_ _

__The knights laugh boisterously at the little prince. Lamorak guffaws especially loud. He’s the oldest among them, remembers when Arthur was a boy of Rowan’s age with the same amount of confidence._ _

__“Oh!” Rowan says, remembering why he came down. “Guess what?”_ _

__“You finally convinced the kennel master to let us see the litter?” Tries Elyan._ _

__“Nuh-uh.”_ _

__“You figured out where cook stashes her sugar buns?” Guesses Gareth._ _

__“Nup.”_ _

__“Go on, then.” Gwaine prompts, gently shoving his shoulder. “Spit it out.”_ _

__“Dad’s gonna let me have a sword.” He puffs his chest proudly, hands on hips._ _

__The knights cheer. His hair gets ruffled by multiple people, Gareth and Caradoc bow dramatically and Percival hoists him into the hair. Rowan laughs and wriggles as Percy’s fingers press against his sides, the one spot he’s ticklish. Back on the ground, Rowan skips over to Caradoc._ _

__“Is Will getting a sword?”_ _

__“Do you think he deserves one?” Caradoc asks, pretending to think hard about it._ _

__“Yeah, he’s my best friend.”_ _

__“Well, I certainly can’t argue with that. Alright, you’ve convinced me, I’ll get him a sword.”_ _

__“Can I go tell him?”_ _

__“It might ruin the surprise. sire.”_ _

__Rowan contemplates the idea, munching his lip in concentration. It’s a habit he’d most definitely inherited from his mother because she did it almost every council and Caradoc was convinced she didn’t even realise._ _

__“You’re right. Let’s keep it a secret.”_ _

__Rowan winks conspiratorially and bounds off to talk with Gwaine. Caradoc smiles, shaking his head fondly after the little boy. It was uncanny how similar he was to Arthur, though a large majority of his mannerisms come from Merlin. He’s a delight to be around and Caradoc couldn’t think of a better prince to have. There was no doubt in his mind that Rowan would make a fine king one day. Especially with such attentive parents to guide him along the way._ _

__\- -_ _

__Leon’s patrol returns halfway through council. Merlin thanks whatever God sent him because if she had to listen to Lord Balan drivel on about the ineptitude of his servant for a second longer she might’ve spelled his mouth shut. As it were, Leon prevents courtly catastrophe by settling into his vacant seat._ _

__“Sir Leon, what news from the East?”_ _

__“Serious news I’m afraid, sire. As you know, a few days ago our garrison in the forest of Breckfire intercepted the man who goes by the name of Osgar.”_ _

__“The sorcerer?” Merlin enquires, interest piqued._ _

__“The same. They were trying to apprehend him when he used his powers to escape. I’m sorry to report Sir Ranulf was mortally wounded.”_ _

__“He was a loyal and true knight.” Merlin says, solemn. “I’ll arrange due compensation for his family.”_ _

__Arthur grabs her hand over the table in silent thanks._ _

__“Place all the men in the Eastern territories on high alert.” He says with finality._ _

__“Yes, sire.”_ _

__“I, personally, will lead a patrol to bring this Osgar to justice.”_ _

__\- -_ _

__“Is it necessary for you to go in person?”_ _

__“A king must lead or what’s the point of him.”_ _

__“You led the men what you saved Mithian’s father and I nearly lost you.”_ _

__“And thanks to you, we all returned unharmed. Despite using copious amounts of magic to scry for me when Gaius told you to take it easy.”_ _

__“Arthur,” She chastises. “It’s my job to protect you and you’re not making it easy by gallivanting around the kingdom to chase up every skirmish.”_ _

__“I do not _gallivant_. Sir Ranulf’s death cannot go unpunished.”_ _

__“You have many fine men to avenge him.”_ _

__“He wasn’t just a knight…he was a friend. We knew each other as boys. I must go and you mustn’t fear, I’ll be perfectly safe. As you say, I have many fine knights.”_ _

__Merlin rolls her eyes and resolutely goes back to her work. Her quill dances as she signs several documents to relinquish estate. Across from her, Arthur studies a map of Camelot’s Eastern borders._ _

__Some time later, a cordial knock interrupts their silence. The door opens and admits Mordred. Merlin refrains from glaring. The young knight was respectful, eager to please and seemed to idolise Arthur. But Merlin couldn’t ignore what she saw._ _

__“You wished to see me, sire?”_ _

__“Ah, Mordred. Come in.”_ _

__Mordred’s gaze flicks to Merlin uncomfortably. Much as he can sense her magic, his penchant for telepathy may lend him the ability to sense emotion. If the nervous bob of his throat was anything to go by, she was right._ _

__“The time has come for you to accompany your king.”_ _

__“My Lord?”_ _

__“I want you to join me on a patrol to the White Mountains.”_ _

__“Me?” Mordred asks, disbelieving and shocked. “To Breckfire?”_ _

__“Congratulations.” Arthur says. “You’ve earned your place, be ready to leave at dawn.”_ _

__“I shall be, my lord. This is a great honour.”_ _

__Mordred makes for the door, but he pauses and turns back, expression serious. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”_ _

__The second the door closes, Merlin’s up from her seat and folding her arms. She was bothered enough by Arthur ’s insistence to lead every mission away from Camelot but now he’s taking Mordred. Unease swirls in her gut. Arthur, oblivious to her spiralling mood, smiles at her._ _

__“He has all the making of an excellent knight.”_ _

__“You’ve certainly grown fond him.” She snips waspishly._ _

__“Merlin…” Arthur sighs. “I don’t know what your problem is with him but either tell me or stop shunning him.”_ _

__“Before Mordred arrived in Camelot, I had dreamt a prophecy. He is your doom.”_ _

__“Mordred? That’s ridiculous.”_ _

__“I watched you die and it was by his hand.”_ _

__Her voice cracks, the mere thought of Arthur dying enough to prick her eyes. Arthur’s face softens as he crosses the small distance to wrap her in a hug._ _

__“I can’t lose you.” She whispers it into his shoulder._ _

__“Someone once told me that the future is fickle.” Merlin smiles, remembering her own words. “And that not all things come to pass.”_ _

__Arthur pulls back and looks down at her warmly. “Perhaps you should use your knowledge to change the future, rather than judge him for something he has yet to do.”_ _

__\- -_ _

__When dawn breaks, Merlin is there, as she always is, to send them off. Mordred looks excited above all, but his apprehension is obvious. It is his first deployment after all, and with the king no less. If the scheming glances Gwaine, Percival, Elyan and Leon keep giving each other are anything to go by, Mordred will be subject to relentless teasing on this patrol. Arthur stops beside her and smiles down at his inner circle._ _

__“You’re sure this is a good idea?” Merlin asks doubtfully. “He’s very young.”_ _

__“Where would any of us be if no one had given us a chance?”_ _

__Arthur holds her elbow and leans down for a kiss. Merlin smiles after him and descends the stairs toward Mordred. He’s clearly surprised by her presence, which is understandable because she’s never approached him before._ _

__“Mordred.” She acknowledges._ _

__“My Lady?”_ _

__“You will take care of him?”_ _

__Mordred recognises the significance of her request. He bows his head atop the horse, eyes alight with hope. Merlin nods and regards him neutrally before returning to the castle. Mordred watches her go. He’s acutely aware of the queen’s distrust. He knew it was the prophecy, had spent his childhood being told he was going to kill Arthur. But Mordred had no desire to. Arthur had saved his life, welcomed magic and accepted Emrys. Merlin was a formidable woman and he understood the protectiveness she showed her family. Despite it all, she was giving him a chance and that meant more to him than he could express._ _

__He looked up, to the window where two little boys could be found._ _

__\- -_ _

__When the party returns, it is with Mordred slung over a horse. Gaius bandages the wound—a mortally deep cut to the shoulder—as Arthur and Merlin await the verdict. Part of her feels guilty but a larger part is glad it’s not Arthur laying there unconscious._ _

__“This is no ordinary wound. There is magic at play.”_ _

__“Yes.” Arthur says. “Osgar was dying. He aimed for me but Mordred pushed me aside.”_ _

__“Can you save him?”_ _

__“I shall do everything in my power, sire.”_ _

__“It won’t be enough.” Merlin mutters, but it’s loud in the quiet room. “I can feel the magic, it will not surrender to conventional medicine.”_ _

__Gaius stops dabbing at Mordred’s fevered forehead. Arthur waits patiently for her to continue._ _

__“I mastered the powers of life and death long ago…only my magic can heal him.”_ _

__“My lady, what you’re suggesting—“_ _

__“Has only been performed by High Priestesses because we are the only ones strong enough. Do not forget that I am more powerful than any who came before me.”_ _

__“No.” Arthur says with a shake of his head. “I won’t allow you to put yourself at risk. You were right, I never should’ve allowed him on the mission.”_ _

__“It’s not your fault.”_ _

__“You once told me that he was impetuous. I should have listened to you.”_ _

__“No, you shouldn’t’ve. If Mordred hadn’t gone, it could be you laying here. I asked him to take care of you and it may yet cost him his life.”_ _

__The room was quiet, save the raspy draws of breath Mordred takes._ _

__Long ago, the dragon had told her this Druid boy was destined to kill Arthur. She’s Seen the battle, the death, and yet…it didn’t have to be that way. Perhaps if she returned his life, he would remember the kindness when his loyalty is tested. Saving Mordred may backfire completely, and if it did, Merlin would go to war beside Arthur and protect him come hell or high water._ _

__Merlin takes a breath to centre herself, closes her eyes and clears her mind. Her magic is a content well of power, golden and confident beneath her skin. She offers her hand, palm up, and Arthur takes it without question. Anchors were necessary for spells of this magnitude._ _

__With her mind in it’s meditative state, her magic bleeds down into the earth. She feels the forest beyond the castle, the groan of growing trees and the wet slide of roots venturing through dirt. There’s too much life there, it would upset the balance. Merlin pushes further, the to ocean banks that lap at the land but she knows she cannot exchange an ocean creature for an earthly one._ _

__Merlin’s not sure how long it takes, but her magic finally wraps around something viable. An old birch tree. Almost a century and riddled with a sickness that saps its energy. The tree leans into her touch agreeably, it wishes to die peacefully, not at the mercy of this disease. There’s enough life in her bark to save Mordred, and enough dark magic in him to ease the birch._ _

__\- -_ _

__Arthur’s transfixed by the magic he sees. Gold dances over Merlin’s skin, shimmers in her hair, and wraps around her arms like animated ribbons. She moves after a short while, pressing a hand to Mordred’s chest. Magic swirls around her arms and stretch until Mordred’s wound is covered by gold._ _

__“Behwierfedon scytel.”_ _

__Something black and volatile begins to rise through Mordred’s wound. It looks vile as it gathers into an angry ball, spitting sludge and trying to return to the body it’s forced from._ _

__“Cnyttan cwealm ic aldor, edcwician deaþlicnes beódland síclian endedéað.”_ _

__Tendrils of magic encase the ireful sphere until it’s engulfed by blinding light. Arthur squints against it. When it settles and the magic retreats into Merlin, Mordred breathes easy and his skin is flushed with lively colour. The spell was exhausting and Arthur ended up carrying her to their chambers._ _

__\- -_ _

__“Enter.”_ _

__Merlin gazed into the courtyard, where Gwen was minding the boys. Alasdair on her hip and Rowan beside her, his little red blanket cape vibrant in the sun. Aunty Gwen adored her nephews, nanny since they were babies. Gwaine appeared, shoulders slumped after a night in the tavern and Merlin watched Rowan bound toward him._ _

__“My lady?”_ _

__She finds Mordred in the doorway, head bowed._ _

__“It’s good to see you back on your feet.” Merlin contemplates him as she moves closer. “You saved Arthur’s life. Thank you.”_ _

__Mordred bows. When he straightens, Merlin finds conflict in his eyes._ _

__“Speak freely, Mordred.”_ _

__“I just…why did you save me?”_ _

__“Because I was wrong to judge you for something you've yet to do.”_ _

__“You must know that I would never—“_ _

__Merlin raises a hand. “I know. I cannot dismiss prophecy, but I can be kind. Whatever it is that threatens your loyalty to Arthur, would not be helped by my animosity. I can only hope that when the time comes, you remember our kindness.”_ _

__“I couldn’t forget. Arthur saved me as a boy and you…you bent the powers of _life and death_ to save me. Magic that like is at the whim of the Old Religion, I’ve never known anyone who determines the price.”_ _

__“I am the Old Religion.”_ _

__Mordred takes a knee before her, and bows his head._ _

__“I give you my solemn oath, that I will not make you regret this. I promise.”_ _

__Merlin places her hand against his mailed shoulder, urging him upward. For the first time since he arrived, Merlin gives him a smile. Small and genuine and it makes Mordred beam with pride._ _

__\- -_ _

__Arthur coughs awake, and reaches for his sword, disorientated, before a familiar laugh stays his hand. His urgency fades to fondness as he smiles at the boy on his chest. Rowan grins, eyes sparkling with excitement while he bounces impatiently._ _

__“I’m up, I’m up.”_ _

__Rowan wriggles back enough for Arthur to sit up, where he then sees Alasdair trying and failing to climb up into the bed. He reaches down deftly, hooking his forearm around the child’s waist to haul him up. Satisfied, Alasdair crawls across the bed and squishes Merlin’s cheeks by way of greeting._ _

__Arthur watches a lazy smile blossom on her face, she turns her head to kiss Alasdair’s chubby hand._ _

__“Good morning, my little prince.”_ _

__Alasdair giggles in response and settles comfortably into Merlin’s lap as she sits up. Rowan rolls onto the empty mattress between his parents to sit cross legged, bouncing where he sits._ _

__“Hm, what do you think the prince is so excited about?” Arthur asks, placing a finger to his lips in thought._ _

__“I’m not sure,” Merlin says, playing along. “What do you think Alasdair?”_ _

__The toddler catches on to their game, being the bright little boy that he is, and shrugs animatedly. Rowan, visibly bubbling with anticipation, rises to his knees and spreads his arms wide._ _

__“It’s my birthday!”_ _

__Arthur and Merlin act surprised, Alasdair giggles and lays his head against Merlin’s chest, snuggling into her warmth. He always has been a mummy’s boy. Rowan, on the other hand, idolises his father, and naturally gravitates toward him._ _

__“You’re growing up too fast.” Arthur sulks, but he’s smiling._ _

__“Good! I’m halfway to ten and that means I’m halfway to being a knight!”_ _

__His blanket cape is uncharacteristically missing this morning and his night shirt is undone in the front, hair messy from sleep._ _

__“You’ve a long way to go yet, little man.“_ _

__Merlin takes the cue, uses magic to levitate the gift toward them. Rowan’s eyes light up when he sees it, eagerly tracking the clothed bundle as it floats through the air. He’s learnt patience, so he waits until it drops gently into his lap before touching it._ _

__He unfolds the silk cloth and stares slack-jawed at what it holds. The blade is blunted for safety, but it’s a real sword. The hilt was streaked with gold, pommel emblazoned with the Pendragon crest on one side and the letter ‘R’ on the other. It’s only a short sword, but it’s big enough for a five year old._ _

__Rowan so busy admiring his present, he doesn’t notice that Merlin is floating his other one forward. It’s draped over his little shoulders and he stares down at the cloak clasps as they’re hooked together. He frowns, fingers twisting in the soft red fabric until realisation hits. A knight’s cloak, complete with the family crest on the left shoulder._ _

__Rowan leaps from the bed, sword in hand, and rushes to the closet mirror. Arthur and Merlin share a smile as their son strikes poses, blonde hair gleaming in the morning sun. He turns around to grin crookedly at his parents, and he looks so much like Arthur it makes Merlin’s heart swell with love._ _

__“Thank you, Mum and Dad! Can I go show Uncle Gwaine?”_ _

__Meredith and Morris arrive with breakfast as Rowan talks, and both smile down at their prince. At the sight of new people, Rowan turns sideways and lifts his sword, proudly displaying his new possessions._ _

__“I’m a knight!”_ _

__“You certainly are, sire.” Meredith says with conviction, like there’s no question about it._ _

__“Rowan,” The prince looks to his mother. “Why don’t we enjoy breakfast first? You can visit your uncles after.”_ _

__His stomach rumbles on cue, and he agreeably walks over to the table and pulls himself up into a seat. Arthur shuffles out of bed and takes his own seat as Merlin places Alasdair down and sits herself. They enjoy a family breakfast, laughing and talking without worry._ _

__Arthur finds himself content as he looks around. Two wonderful sons, happy and healthy and endlessly entertaining. His boys, the most precious things in the world. The beautiful wife that gave him his sons, her eyes crinkled with a smile and her skin glowing with happiness. She’s still the most beautiful woman in the world to him, even in her nightdress. Arthur admires the family he’s built and knows nothing could ever bring him as much joy as they do._ _

__\- -_ _

__When spring returns, Merlin thinks it’s high time she got out of the castle. It’s the anniversary of her father’s death, so she organises a ride to the memorial. The air is fresh against her face, the sun warm upon her skin and the knights offer pleasant chatter as they ride. The meadows beyond Camelot’s forrest are in bloom, the rolling hills verdant._ _

__She asks that the knights allow her privacy, so the four of them wait in the meadow’s dip as Merlin ascends the gentle hill toward her father’s memorial. A neat stack of slate stones warming in the son. Raven hair dances in the gentle wind as her eyes shine golden, and a perennial arrangement of flowers take their place against the stones._ _

__“Even after all these years, I still miss you.”_ _

__She reaches out to stroke the stones, warm beneath her fingers._ _

__“Mother's well. I wish you were here, father.”_ _

__The wind picks up ever so slightly and it loses some of it’s chill. Merlin closes her eyes and smiles against it, likes to think that it’s her father reaching out. She wears a cerulean dress, the same colour in the Ambrosias crest, as a means of paying respect. Merlin stays up there for a while longer before rejoining the knights. Ronin snorts as she mounts him, glossy mane catching the sun when he shakes his head. The men stay quiet until they reach the woods, it’s Leon who breaks the silence._ _

__“I think he’d be proud.” Merlin looks at him inquisitively. “I met him when I was a squire, but I see his compassion in you.”_ _

__“Thank you, Sir Leon.”_ _

__“Absolutely.” Gwaine says. “You’re outstanding. Especially when it comes to dealing with the princess, if nothing else.”_ _

__“Don’t listen to him.” Elyan drawls, voice fond but exasperated._ _

__Merlin laughs. “I never do.”_ _

__“You wound me, Merlin.” Gwaine says with a smile._ _

__“I’m sure you can find someone to ease your pain.”_ _

__“Didn’t Arthur tell you who Gwaine’s in love with?” Elyan quips_ _

__Merlin turns to Gwaine with a coy smile and says, “Himself.”_ _

__The group dissolve into laughter at that and Gwaine smiles himself, unbothered about being the butt of the joke. Conversation turns to training and Merlin zones out, content with the sunshine and ambient chatter around her. They amble through the forest, eventually reaching a small clearing._ _

__Her magic stirs, and Merlin tightens the reins to stay Ronin. The area is unassuming enough, but she senses an enchantment close by, the whole clearing is shrouded by it. The knights, oblivious to her suspicions, continue talking as they enter the area._ _

__As soon as they do, the very grass seems to hiss as snakes dart through the grass. The knights yell, trying to calm their mounts but snakes spook even the hardiest of destriers. One by one, they’re thrown from the saddles and the snakes wind menacingly toward Ronin._ _

__“They’re after the queen,” Elyan yells, still wrangling his horse. “Get to the trees! Go!”_ _

__Ronin flies through the trees, nostrils flaring as his hooves thunder over the ground. The only problem is that he seems to be running straight toward the source of the enchantment. As he runs, the static in the air grows stronger until the hairs on her arms stand on end._ _

__Merlin recognises the signature, only one person has power enough to inject the very atmosphere with hatred. But the realisation comes too late and Merlin can’t stop the magic that wraps around her. She’s yanked from the saddle and her head bounces painfully against the floor._ _

__The impact leaves her disorientated, head throbbing as unconsciousness closes in. Her vision is hazy, lids already heavier than she can bare. Distantly, she’s aware of footsteps coming closer but she’s so tired and it hurts to face the light so Merlin let’s her eyes fall shut. Darkness envelops her but oblivion never felt so comforting._ _

__\- -_ _

__Morgana crouches beside the queen’s body, a satisfied smile pulling at her lips. She reaches out to run her chilled fingers across Merlin’s cheek._ _

__“Sleep, My Lady…for it could be some time before you do so again.”_ _

__\- -_ _

__When Gwaine rides into the citadel, it’s to see Arthur holding the reins of Merlin’s horse. Gwaine’s mouth settles into a grim line as he rides up, doing his best to avoid Arthur’s frantic eyes. He was meant to protect Merlin and the failure to do so weighs heavy on his shoulders. Leon and Percival are unconscious, and a flurry of activity sees the unresponsive knights ushered into the castle._ _

__Gwaine dismounts and watches the stable hands lead their horses away. Elyan sidles up to him and they stand together as Arthur marches toward them with panic in his eyes._ _

__“What happened?”_ _

__“We were riding.” Elyan starts, voice subdued. “We came upon a nest of snakes.”_ _

__“Where’s Merlin?” Arthur asks, distraught by the immediate lack of answer. “Where is she?”_ _

__“I told her to get away…she fled.” Elyan drops his head, unable to look his king in the eye._ _

__Arthur says nothing, but waves of worry flood his system, his whole body feels cold because if Merlin had fled, she’d have come home to him. The prospect of something sinister being at play was enough to send him spiralling into outright panic. He turns and marches back up the castle steps._ _

__“We ride at dawn.” He orders, voice edged with anger._ _

__\- -_ _

__Gwaine hesitates outside the door, but pushes it open before he can second guess himself. The room is dimly lit, only a couple of candelabras fighting against the darkness of night. Arthur’s by a dresser, fingering a small wooden dragon, but turns at his entry._ _

__“Learn to knock.” He grumbles, directing his attention back to the dragon_ _

__“Sorry, sire.” Gwaine approaches slowly. “Leon and Percival are safe. They’re well on the road to recovery.”_ _

__“That’s good news.” Arthur acknowledges, but he doesn’t sound like a man that’s just received good news._ _

__“Gaius said…there was evidence of sorcery. He, uh, he suspects Morgana is involved.”_ _

__“You can go, Gwaine.”_ _

__Arthur doesn’t face him again, and Gwaine’s not one to push. With a defeated breath, he turns to leave but pauses when Arthur speaks again._ _

__“I lost Merlin once before.”_ _

__“You’re not going to lose her.” Gwaine says, full of conviction. When Arthur meets his eyes, he looks hopeless. “You’re not. We will find her. I swear.”_ _

__Gwaine offers his forearm and lets his determination show. Arthur wavers, but he clasps it with a firm hand, eyes just a little bit brighter than they had been. Gwaine smiles with surety._ _

__“We’ll bring her home.”_ _

__\- -_ _

__Merlin is drawn from the darkness by a gentle touch to her neck, but she flinches away from it. Her head feels as though it’s been clamped in a vice and her stomach rolls violently when she cracks open her eyes. She breaths through it, tries to smother the nausea that racks her body. Memories filter in slowly, but once they’re back, she jolts upward from the leafy ground. The motion sends her stomach on a rampage and she has to squeeze her eyes shut to avoid vomiting. Turning her head, she comes face to face with Morgana._ _

__“Good morning, My Lady. Not feeling too well?”_ _

__“What do you want with me?”_ _

__“I thought we could play a little game.”_ _

__“A game?”_ _

__“To find out just how much Arthur loves you.”_ _

__“It won’t work.”_ _

__“You underestimate his feelings.”_ _

__Merlin scoffs. “He’s not stupid. He’ll know it’s a trap.”_ _

__“He will.” Morgana sneers. “But he’ll still come.”_ _

__Merlin’s lip curls with disgust, and when Morgana turns her back, she thrusts out a hand and casts a spell._ _

__She screams, curling in on herself as fire rips through her body. It feels like every nerve is being pinched and twisted, salty tears spill over her cheeks against the pain. It subsides, but Merlin’s hands tremble in the aftermath. In wake of the burning, it feels as though she’s been doused with ice cold water, her magic retreating timidly to the core of her being._ _

__Morgana pouts with artificial sympathy, eyes gleeful as she stares down at the crying figure._ _

__“How remiss of me,” A cruel smile twists her features. “I forgot to introduce you to my newest friends.”_ _

__Morgana reaches down to grab Merlin’s wrist, and she barely refrains from flinching as cold hands encircled her skin. Tacky tears tighten her cheeks as Merlin blinks down at the band. Thin, plain save for a single rune. The skin beneath it is raw and angry and hopelessness settles comfortably in her belly._ _

__“I’m sure you’re familiar with these,” Morgana traces the band with her thumb. “Cold iron represses magic, but these…these ones will rebound any spell you cast and double it’s severity. I made them just for you, Emrys.”_ _

__Merlin glares up at her defiantly, unwilling to show fear. Morgana only smirks as she loops a rope around Merlin’s neck, like a dog._ _

__They travel the entire day. Morgana sits comfortably atop her horse, dragging Merlin along behind her. The rope is frayed, coarse enough that it’s broken the delicate skin of her neck. She’s exhausted. Having her magic cut off is as hindering as having her lungs restricted. Every muscle in her body aches and her head throbs, every jostle from the horse is like a physical blow and she staggers more than she walks._ _

__Hours pass, and the sun begins its descent. Merlin’s foot catches on a root and she stutters forward, bracing her forearms against the floor. She pants, but it still feels like she’s choking. Merlin hangs her head and tries to blink away the blurriness that presses in on her vision._ _

__“Here.” Morgana’s voice is oddly gentle, and Merlin looks up to see a waterskin proffered. Merlin looks away. “Is it too good for you now that you’re queen?”_ _

__“I don’t want anything from you.”_ _

__“Just my crown.” She drawls, unstopping the skin. “Drink. You may need it.”_ _

__“Why?”_ _

__“I wouldn’t be in such a hurry to know.”_ _

__Clearly irritated, Morgana upends the water out of spite. Merlin has to stop her lips from smacking as it splashes against the floor, soaked up eagerly by the grass. Her throat is painfully dry, but she’s rather die than take anything from Morgana. She grunts tiredly when she’s forced to her feet, rope digging into her raw skin. It stings and she doesn’t bother hiding a wince because Morgana isn’t looking._ _

__Merlin barely registers the changing terrain through the haze. The cushion of grass is gone, and her shoes crunch over the stone riddled limestone. The sun hangs low, but it still radiates an uncomfortable heat. Merlin lifts her head tiredly to squint up at a dark pillar of stone._ _

__\- -_ _

__Leon watches Arthur pass by and sighs. He sees the concern on everyone their faces, and quietly follows after his king. He finds him staring out over the valley, a sea of shadows in the night. Leon settles his horse beside Arthur’s and gazes out with him. Arthur is tense enough that it rolls off of him in waves._ _

__“Sire?”_ _

__“She can’t be far.”_ _

__“I know,” He agrees. “But we have to work together. We’ll make camp and get a fire going. In the morning, we’ll pick up her trail again.”_ _

__Leon reaches out and drops a comforting hand to Arthur’s shoulder. The king hangs his head, hands tight around the reigns. Loathe as he is to stop, he hears only reason in Leon’s words, so he returns to camp. Though he doesn’t sit around the fire with his men. Arthur leans against one of the trees and stares out into the vast nothingness, his mind a million miles away. The knights talk in a hush behind him, and after some time, Elyan appears at his shoulder._ _

__“If I lose her, I lose everything…I should have been there.”_ _

__“Then you would’ve been taken as well.”_ _

__“At least she wouldn’t be alone.” It was self-deprecating, but he rather felt he deserved it._ _

__“Then the princes would be by themselves, without parents. You cannot blame yourself, Arthur.”_ _

__“I don’t know what I’d be without her. How could I hope to rule alone? How could I face my boys and tell them I failed their mother?”_ _

__“You won’t have to.”_ _

__Elyan doesn’t say anything further. He just puts an arm around Arthur’s shoulders and steers him toward the fire. Arthur’s doesn’t sleep through the night, can’t even think of resting when his beloved is in danger. He dreads to think think what Morgana is doing to her. Leon and Percival share a dream, of the Dark Tower, and when morning comes, Arthur tells them they can turn back._ _

__Elyan shakes his head. “You can’t stop me, Arthur. She’s like a sister to me.”_ _

__“Nor me.” Percival says, grabbing his sword. “She’s our queen.”_ _

__“And our friend.” Leon declares, full of emotion._ _

__“She’s a maiden in a tower.” Gwaine starts, pushing up from the floor. “Damsel in distress. I was born for this moment. And I made you a promise, remember?”_ _

__\- -_ _

__Merlin loses her concept of time. Her only source of light comes from a rusted grate in the roof, but even that is meagre and unreliable. Her once artful hair is in tangles. She pulls at the roots, desperate to stop the voices but they won’t leave her alone. Her skin is stained where she’s knocked into the mandrakes. They hang mockingly from the ceiling, mangled roots reaching hungrily for her. And they drip, black sludge that dampens the floor. Their squelchy dripping the only sound that accompanies all the screams, all the voices._ _

__The longer Merlin's cut off from magic, the more she deteriorates. The pressure in her skull is sure to explode and her nails are bloody and broken from trying to tear off the cuffs. The skin around then is inflamed, red and streaked with blood from her constant scratching. There’s blood on the floor, where she vomited it up but by now it’s become one with the mandrake sludge._ _

__She’s seen people. The knights, Gwen…even Arthur. They all laugh at her, they think she’s pathetic. Between their torment, the voices antagonise her. A disgraceful queen, an abhorrent friend, a horrible wife, an incapable ruler._ _

__Gwaine appears around a pillar, and he snarls at her. Merlin pushes herself up, the effort leaves her panting. Gwaine draws his sword and rushes her, blasé swinging at her neck. The cuffs have drained her energy and she can’t move fast enough. It her haste to escape, Merlin trips over her own skirts and sprawls to the floor, raising a hand to defend herself but sobbing when he magic won’t come. She hears Arthur’s laugh, Gwen’s, Leon’s, they all echo around her and Merlin screams._ _

__The door opens, Gwaine disappears, and Merlin sobs. Morgana’s there, offering her hand, Merlin thinks it’s just another sent to torment her. She cries, the only warmth she gets in this frigid room her own tears. Morgana reaches out and she’s blessedly real._ _

__“It’s all right.” She smiles, warm and concerned, Merlin clings. “I’m here.”_ _

__“My darling, it was wrong to make you suffer. The mandrake root is cruel, pierces the depths of your soul, twisting your unconscious into the very image of fear and dread. Without magic to protect you, you’re just as susceptible as anyone else.”_ _

__Morgana pulls out of the hug and Merlin grabs desperately at her arms, terrified of being left alone. Morgana holds her hands, pitying and understanding._ _

__“Merlin, you’re not alone now. You need never be alone agin. I’m the only one you can trust. I’m all you have left in the world. The others taunt you, hate you. Come.”_ _

__Morgana stands with a soft smile in place and Merlin follows. “You need some rest. Some proper rest.”_ _

__Merlin nods, because she’s so tired and she wants to sleep more than anything. Her agreeability makes something change on Morgana’s face and she looks…smug. She looks just like all the others do and Merlin realises that this is just another illusion._ _

__“No.” She wrenches her hand away, but flinches as her head knocks a mandrake root._ _

__Morgana’s face loses all it’s warmth, and a dark scowl takes up residence._ _

__“Whatever twisted game you’re playing…” Tears sting her eyes. “I want no part in it. I would rather stay here and die.”_ _

__“So be it.”_ _

__\- -_ _

__When they enter a vast chamber, arrows fly from both sides. Elyan pushes Arthur out of the way and rolls to cushion the fall, but he ends up a fair distance ahead of them. Arthur pauses, Gwaine, Percy and Leon at his back._ _

__“No one move.” Arthur looks at the stone gargoyles that line the room. “Stay exactly where you are.”_ _

__“What triggered it?” Leon huffs, gaze searching._ _

__“The flagstones. They must react to pressure.”_ _

__“Here.” Elyan calls from ahead, pulling his sword free. “I’ll use this.”_ _

__He tosses it on the next flagstone and it crunches down, the gargoyles loose to arrows and Elyan ducks to avoid them. “I’ll push on.”_ _

__“Elyan, no.” But he’s already moving, hoping across the last stone and vanishing through an archway. “Elyan!”_ _

__When Arthur sees him next, his head lays in Merlin’s lap. Arthur only has a moment of relief at the sight of her, before the position clicks. Merlin’s crying as she cradles his head and Elyan is horribly pale, his hand limp in hers. They all rush forward, and Merlin curls into Arthur’s arms when he drops to her side. She looks a mess, body shaking with sobs as she clings to him. The knights are quiet, checking frantically for a pulse and bowing their heads when they don’t find one._ _

__“Enchanted—I-I couldn’t…I couldn’t”_ _

__Arthur runs a gloved hand over her hair, gently shushing her. He stares down at Elyan’s body and shares a look with the knights. The loss is painful and Arthur’s anger toward Morgana climbs. She has taken far too much from him._ _

__\- -_ _

__A funeral is held. Merlin stands on the lake’s shore, holding Gwen’s hand as the boat floats gently across the water. Gwen mourns openly, cheeks damp as her brother goes. Arthur’s the one who lights the boat, knocking a flaming arrow and letting it fly. Elyan deserves better, but it’s the highest honour he can show because kings never loose the arrow._ _

__The inner knights stand respectfully behind the queen, backed by every other knight that’s lost a brother this day. But they all leave eventually._ _

__Merlin stays with Gwen long after the boat is gone, sitting on the grassy shore. She listens as Gwen talks of her childhood, shares every fond memory she has of her brother. Merlin summons her magic, free from the cuffs, and animates the water. Gwen smiles through her tears as Elyan rises from the water, small and blue, before climbing up on the bank to sit by Gwen’s foot._ _

__\- -_ _

__“Morris.”_ _

__Arthur rifles through his draw, flipping through random items of clothing. He slams it shut and moves to the next one._ _

__“Morris!” He calls, louder this time._ _

__It’s Merlin that answers, entering through the antechamber. “What is it?”_ _

__“I can’t find my comb.” Arthur sulks, tossing a sock onto the floor._ _

__“Have you looked?” There’s a very distinct note of doubt in her question._ _

__“Everywhere.”_ _

__Put-upon, Arthur bounces onto the bed and watches her stride across the room. Red today, a contrast that brings out her eyes. Her hair is as artful as ever, long down her back. Arthur watches her reach over to snag the comb from its place on the dresser. Merlin holds it up with an unamused eyebow quirked._ _

__“It must’ve been under something.”_ _

__“Your nose.” Merlin taps the comb against said nose._ _

__“You just—“ He waves his hand. “—have this way of seeing things.”_ _

__“Yes, two of them—they’re called eyes.”_ _

__Arthur snorts, hands grabbing at her waist and pulling her into the cradle of his legs. “Very beautiful they are, too.”_ _

__“Don’t try and sweet talk your way out of this.” She says, smiling as she drags the comb through Arthur’s bed-messed hair._ _

__“Out of what?”_ _

__“How hopeless you are.”_ _

__Arthur smiles, crooked and affectionate, and pulls her closer. “I am. I’m hopelessly in love.”_ _

__He attempts a kiss, but Merlin’s faster and the comb comes between them. Arthur’s lips press against the wood as he frowns. Merlin’s eyes twinkle with mirth._ _

__“You need to prepare for the Sarrum’s arrival.”_ _

__With a gentle shove, Arthur falls back onto the mattress and sighs. Sarrum is one of two kings who are yet to sign a peace treaty with Camelot. And he has quite the reputation. Even Uther feared him, and rightfully so. People say he takes joy in impaling men, women…even children. And a worrying fondness for assassinating his friends. The only thing he and Arthur have in common, is a hatred for Morgana. If Arthur wants to achieve peace in Albion, he has little choice._ _

__\- -_ _

__Arthur stands at the forefront, Merlin at right, the princes by her side. A now six-year-old Rowan stands with his shoulders back, mimicking his father, but he wasn’t allowed to wear his cloak. Instead, a red velvet gambeson with gold clasps and smart black trousers make up his outfit. Alasdair, now three and a half, wears similar. Arthur and Merlin are draped in finery, crowns glinting atop their heads._ _

__Sarrum casts a critical eye as he nears. Bald and clad in leather, there’s an unimpressed downturn to his mouth, face lined with age._ _

__“We are most grateful that you accepted our invitation. Camelot welcomes you and your warriors with friendship.”_ _

__“The last time I met you, you were ten years old. Now, I see you have sons of your own.” Sarrum talks with the posh lilt of a highborn. “Queen Merlin, as beautiful as they say.”_ _

__Merlin smiles politely and ignores the shiver that snakes down her spine. Merlin catches the slight tensing of Arthur’s shoulders. While Sarrum’s words speak a compliment, there’s clear undertones of perversion. Rowan seems to pick up on it, for he shuffles just the slightest bit left, so he stands guard in front of her._ _

__\- -_ _

__They feast in his honour. The princes sit beside their mother, enjoying the food. They both fiddle with their clothes, unused to such formal dress, but otherwise they exercise impressive grace. They engage with each other, knowing they cannot talk with the knights without shouting. If they have need of something, they address their parents formally as they’ve been taught._ _

__“I feel we have much in common.” Arthur’s saying. “We share many allies and friends. Also an enemy.”_ _

__“Sorcery.”_ _

__“You forget sorcery is welcomed in Camelot. I speak of my half-sister, Morgana. There is a rumour that you held her prisoner.”_ _

__“She’s nothing to be feared.” His smile is anything but warm. “I kept her like an animal.”_ _

__“How did you capture her? She’s a sorceress, a High Priestess.”_ _

__“I found her weakness. Everyone has one,” Sarrum’s cold eyes lock with Merlin’s. “Even a High Priestess. A young dragon.”_ _

__“A dragon?” Merlin asks, failing to keep the worry from her voice. Sarrum nods, smug._ _

__“Her love for that creature caused her to suffer more than she ever imagined possible. But not more than she deserved. She wouldn’t dare to use magic against me, not while her beloved creature was at risk of harm.”_ _

__Merlin fights to keep her temper at bay. He must speak of Aithusa. Merlin entrusted Kilgharrah with her care but it seems that trust was misplaced._ _

__“Such a shame…all that power, all that beauty, abandoned and forgotten in a living grave.”_ _

__“You’re a harsh judge, Lord Sarrum.” Merlin says, venom in her voice._ _

__“When it comes to sorcery, we must be merciless.”_ _

__“When it comes to sorcery, you must remember your company.” She bites, unable to comprehend the gall of this brute. Sarrum raises a placating hand._ _

__“I mean no offence, Your Majesty. As a High Priestess yourself, I’m sure my…policies seem threatening.”_ _

__“You’ll find very little capable of threatening me. But as a Dragonlord, I do find your willingness to harm such a noble creature rather distasteful.”_ _

__“Well, accept my humblest apologies, My Lady. I was unaware of your affiliations.”_ _

__Merlin smiles, diplomatic. “Then all is forgotten. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll retire for the night.”_ _

__She rises slowly, not wanting to express her eagerness to leave. Sarrum bows his head by way of acceptance and Arthur presses a kiss to her hand._ _

__“Come, boys.” The princes hop down without argument. Alasdair grabs Merlin’s hand and waves goodbye to Arthur. Rowan gives a little bow, mature enough to understand proper etiquette, before he joins Merlin and trails out after her. Arthur watches them go, glad to have her out of Sarrum’s sight._ _

__\- -_ _

__Merlin prepares Ronin with deft efficiency. Tacked and ready to go, Merlin swings herself into the saddle and takes off. The forest is cold, but her thick fur cloak cocoons her in warmth.By the time she reaches the clearing, a weak rain has begun to fall. Fat drops fall sparsely as she waits, hardly enough to dampen the soil. Kilgharrah arrives first, landing heavy and dropping into a bow._ _

__“How could you abandon her? She’s fallen into allegiance with Morgana, for God's sake!” Merlin hisses with venom in her voice, unmistakable, Kilgharrah’s eyes widen ever so slightly._ _

__“You speak of Aithusa.”_ _

__“Obviously!”_ _

__“I am not a baby-sitter, young witch. You-“_ _

__“Me, nothing! You are the only other dragon in Albion, forgive me for thinking you could show her the ropes. As wise as you are, you display an appalling lack of responsibility.”_ _

__“I’ll admit, I was a...negligent mentor.” He grits out. “But I could not force her to remain by my side when she wished otherwise.”_ _

__Merlin opens her mouth to reply, but a strangled cry interrupts her. Her heart aches at the sight of Aithusa, wobbling as she struggles against deformed wings. Her landing is more of a crash and she whines pitifully, hobbling forward. With a trill, Aithusa drops her head into Merlin’s waiting hands, wings dropping with exhaustion._ _

__“Oh, my baby. What has he done to you?”_ _

__Aithusa keens as Merlin examines the damage. Her wings are twisted, bones skewed and they don’t sit flush like Kilgharrah’s. The ridge of her spine is far too prominent and her legs unhealthily thin, weak and barely able to support her weight. Scales darkened with dirt, eyes deep in their sockets and her skeleton painfully obvious beneath the sickly stretch of her skin._ _

__“I’ve failed you, Aithusa. I’m so sorry.”_ _

__Aithusa rubs her nose against Merlin’s cheek, trying to dry her tears. Merlin strokes the length of her head affectionately, trying not to think about the roughness of the scales there. She turns to Kilgharrah._ _

__“Can she be helped?”_ _

__Kilgharrah casts an assessing gaze over the stunted dragon and hums thoughtfully._ _

__“Dragon’s cannot be touched by mortal magic.” Merlin sighs, defeated. "But you, Emrys…you do not weird mortal magic.”_ _

__“Can I heal her?”_ _

__“With my help, it is possible.”_ _

__Merlin smiles, eyes watering for an entirely different reason. She spends the next hour with the dragons, pushing gentle waves of magic into Aithusa’s body to begin the healing process. Aithusa relaxes into her presence, curling around her in recognition of their bond. As time passes, Merlin knows she must return to the castle._ _

__“Aithusa. You will not return to Morgana.” The white dragon averts her eyes, clearly displeased with the order but unable to defy it. Merlin has to wonder why she’s so attached to Morgana, she’s hardly a nurturing individual._ _

__“You must stay with Kilgharrah.” Merlin looks up to the older dragon. “And you will take care of her.”_ _

__“As you wish.”_ _

__\- -_ _

__Camelot treaties with Amata. The signing ceremony goes off without a hitch, Merlin makes sure of that. Sarrum even expresses genuine remorse for upsetting the queen, and offers his apologies. Merlin is stupidly proud of Arthur for sealing the deal. Peace with Amata was something none had achieved in the past. Arthur was well on his way to uniting all of Albion._ _

__\- -_ _

__“This really is the most perfect spot, is it not?” Arthur slips from the saddle as he says it, glancing around at the greenery._ _

__“It is.” Merlin agrees with a smile._ _

__“I sometimes forget how beautiful Camelot is. But never now beautiful my queen is.”_ _

__“Ew.”_ _

__“Was that you, Rowan?” Arthur strolls forward to where the blonde prince has just dismounted, eyes narrowed._ _

__“No…”_ _

__“Because if you were mocking your dad—“_ _

__“I wasn’t!” Rowan tosses up a hand. “I swear.”_ _

__Arthur reaches out, too fast for Rowan to duck, and catches him in a headlock. He grunts as Arthur ruffles his hair but manages to slip away. As Merlin dismounts, Arthur comes over to take the toddler from her arms. Morris hastily begins setting up the picnic; flaring the blanket and arranging the pillows before spreading out an array of foods_ _

__“Hey, Alasdair! Come check out this bug I just found!” Rowan calls, kneeling down beside a patch of clovers. Alasdair jogs over and joins him, smacking Rowan’s hand away when he tries to poke it with a stick._ _

__“You’ll hurt it. Here,” The dark haired prince reaches out, ushering the creature onto his hand. “And it’s not a bug, it’s an insect.”_ _

__“You spend too much time with Gaius.”_ _

__“At least _I_ know the difference.”_ _

__“Whatever,” Rowan stands up and dusts of his trousers, crossing his arms as he leans over his brother’s shoulder to stare at the beetle. “Do you reckon it bites?”_ _

__“Nah, not if you’re nice to it.”_ _

__“It’s a bug—“_ _

__“Insect.”_ _

__“—you don’t need to be nice to it.”_ _

__“Boys.” Merlin calls, settling herself on the blanket. Rowan gives the beetle a critical once over and runs a hand through his hair. It’s darkened now that he’s older, closer to Arthur’s shade. He plops down nonchalantly, dragging a pillow over for comfort and upending the water jug in the process. Merlin tuts and rights it with magic. Rowan grins sheepishly._ _

__Alasdair settles much less chaotically. He crosses his legs and lets the beetle crawl onto his knee. It’s his seventh birthday, hence the family picnic away from the castle._ _

__They’ve had years of peace. It seems to be Morgana’s pattern; attempt a takeover then vanish when it inevitably fails._ _

__Rowan is nine and tall for his age. He’s lost the roundness of childhood, more and more his adolescent face takes shape. He’s taken a liking to short hair, but he usually leaves the top a bit longer. He and William spend all their free time on the training grounds, watching and waiting. Rowan absolutely hates tutoring, a fact which amused Arthur to no end because when he was a boy, he tried every trick in the book to avoid his tutors._ _

__Despite that, Rowan usually exercised kindness to others and had none of the entitlement Arthur did. He’s happy to talk with peasants, he and Will even play games with low-borns, usually causing a ruckus in the courtyard._ _

__Alasdair’s hair was as wild as Merlin’s. It curled in thick waves over his ears and usually found it’s way into his eyes. He showed greater interest in academia than his brother, often shadowing Gaius. He’s also more interested in his tutoring and didn’t care that much for combat training. It intrigued him, and he’d have to learn either way, but he preferred books over swords._ _

__The princes were different in many ways, but they both loved their little sister. Princess Eleanor, a bubbly three year old with a full head of blonde curls. Where the two boys take after only one parent appearance wise, their daughter was the perfect combination of both. Eleanor had Arthur’s blonde hair and smile, but Merlin’s curls and electric blue eyes. Her skin was pale like her mother’s, but she tanned as easily as Arthur. At the moment, she’s stuffing her face with grapes._ _

__“It’s a stag beetle.” Merlin says, pouring herself a drink. “Symbols of dedication.”_ _

__Alasdair smiles and offers the beetle a crumb of cheese, but it scuttles back into the undergrowth._ _

__Rowan snorts. “Not dedicated to you, that’s for sure.”_ _

__Alasdair pegs a grape at his brother. “Shut up.”_ _

__The air is warm with summer’s zenith, but thankfully there’s a cool breeze coming in from the south. The guards they brought stand in a wide circle, not intruding, but Merlin still offers them water because it’s hot out and chainmail isn’t summer friendly._ _

__“Hey, Dad,” Rowan says, nodding over to a tree. “What’s the deal with the trees? They’re all scratched up.”_ _

__Arthur looks around, chewing as he does so. “It’s stags marking their territory.”_ _

__Rowan hums, satisfied, and shoves a slab of ham into his mouth._ _

__“It’s rutting season. Half the trees in the forest look like that.”_ _

__Rowan opened his mouth to reply, but a messenger trampled into the area, breathless and red-faced._ _

__“I’m sorry, My Lord, but you’re needed in the citadel immediately._ _

__\- -_ _

__“Two days ago, the city of Helva was attacked. Only a handful of people managed to escape.”_ _

__“Who is responsible?”_ _

__“At first, we assumed it was the Saxons.” Leon reports. “They’ve been active in that area before, but the refugees tell a different story. They say magic was involved.”_ _

__“Morgana?” Merlin asks, arms folded._ _

__“All the evidence would suggest so, my lady.”_ _

__“Strengthen the garrison. Double the patrol on the border.”_ _

__Leon leaves, the other knights following until only Arthur, Merlin and Gaius remain in the throne room. When the doors close, Merlin rises from her throne and shakes her head._ _

__“Why would Morgana attack Helva?”_ _

__“She must have her reasons.”_ _

__“Magic is practiced freely there, why attack her own? It makes no sense.”_ _

__“If I may,” Gaius preludes, shuffling forward to present a broach. “One of the refugees handed me this.”_ _

__Merlin takes it, runs her hand over the decorated brass. “It’s a fine piece.”_ _

__“Indeed. The inscription on the back is…most interesting.”_ _

__Arthur comes up beside her, peering over her shoulder to get a glimpse. Merlin fingers the etched words contemplatively. It’s a harsh script, sharp and pointed, the letters disconnected._ _

__“It’s Catha.” She mutters._ _

__“Can you decipher it?” Arthur probes, hinted with confusion._ _

__“It’s so long since I’ve heard the language, but…I do recognise this signature. Alator.”_ _

__“That must be why Morgana attacked Helva.” Gaius says in dawning. “She must be recruiting. Alator is a powerful man, a High Priest.”_ _

__“War?”_ _

__“That must be our fear, sire.”_ _

__\- -_ _

___These need new cushions_ Merlin thinks, readjusting herself in a quest for comfort. The thrones certainly look nice, but they sap the feeling from her arse. Merlin takes solace in the knowledge that this requested audience is the only one today. She takes the woman in. Gentle eyes, though urgent, show age her features do not. Adorned in unremarkable robes, she drops a knee and bows her head. _ _

__“Great one.” She utters, reverent._ _

__“Please,” Merlin smiles and meets her eyes. “That’s not necessary. What is your name?”_ _

__The woman rises, closing her gloved hands together. “Finna. It is an honour to meet you, Emrys.”_ _

__“What business have you here?” Arthur asks, leaning on his elbow. The woman doesn’t pay him any attention, focused on Merlin when she answers._ _

__“I was sent by my master, Alator of the Catha. He sends you greetings. But also a warning…the great battle nears, the fate of Camelot rests in the balance. Only you, great Emrys, can ensure the triumph of the Once and Future King.”_ _

__“Have you more detail?”_ _

__“Camelot’s enemies are closer than you think.”_ _

__“You speak of Morgana.”_ _

__“Indeed, your grace.” Finna pauses, eyes flicking to Arthur, then back to Merlin. “For hundreds of years, the Catha have guarded their ancient knowledge. But now the time has come to pass it to you, Emrys.”_ _

__Finna reaches into her robes and procures a small, ornate box. She walks slowly to the dais, offering the box up. Merlin takes it, a slight furrow between her brows as she does so, and Finna retreats._ _

__“Guard it carefully. It will help you in the dark days to come.”_ _

__“Thank you.”_ _

__\- -_ _

__Their room is warm, cozied by fire that licks at the hearth. The little box glints in the orange light, bronzing the silver surface. Merlin stares pensively at it, eyes tracing the whorls and curves of it’s decoration. It’s tarnished with age. Arthur sits across from her, hands clasped over the table, waiting. Merlin reaches out and opens the box. Within, a wax-sealed parchment sits. The mark of Bendrui clear. She unfolds it, deciphering the Catha script with ease._ _

__“Let loose the hounds of war and let the dread fire of the last priestess rain down from angry skies. For brother will slaughter brother, friend will murder friend as the great horn sounds a cold dawn at Camlann. The prophets do not lie. There…”_ _

__Merlin’s throat constricts. Her lashes flutter against the sting of tears._ _

__“What is it?” Arthur prompts, hand coming to rest over Merlin’s wrist._ _

__“There…Arthur will meet his end upon that mighty plain.”_ _

__\- -_ _

__Merlin calls the dragons. Dread still swirls in her belly, but she can’t stop a smile as they soar down. In the years since their reunion, Aithusa has grown strong. Her wings are straight, powerful, no longer tattered along the edges. And she’s almost as big as Kilgharrah, beautiful. Clean white scales catch in the sunlight, elegant horns curve upward from her head. All the wrongs of her body have been righted and she has muscle where once it was only bone. She still hasn’t found her voice, but Kilgharrah said it will come with time._ _

__“You seem troubled, young witch.”_ _

__“I have beheld prophecy of Arthur’s death. It must be my dream…I cannot let him die.”_ _

__“You have completed your destiny, Merlin.”_ _

__“What do you mean?”_ _

__“You and Arthur were destined to harbour peace in Albion, magic is welcome once more. All intents and purposes, you are done.”_ _

__“So that’s it? Magic is back so Arthur just-just dies? No. I won’t accept that.”_ _

__“You cannot change a path that has been written since the dawn of time.”_ _

__“I am Emrys, I have conquered time.”_ _

__“Merlin—“_ _

__“Will you fight with me?_ _

__“I will serve you as long as I have the strength.”_ _

__\- -_ _

__Rowan doesn’t knock before he pushes against the door. These last months have been different than usual. Weapons deliveries have been pouring into the citadel and the knights have been training relentlessly. The history tutor has taught him well enough, and he may be a kid, but he recognises the preparations for what they are._ _

__Mum and Dad rarely talk of…her. The aunt he’s never met. The information he’s sought tells him that she used to be kind and compassionate. Her and his mother had been close, they shared magic._ _

__He stands quietly in the doorway, chewing his lip. His mum sits on the chest at the end of their bed, head in hand. He doesn’t like seeing her upset. Her and dad haven’t smiled in the last week. Alasdair understands as well as he that something big is happening, but Rowan tries to keep Eleanor away from it at least. He shuffles in, and Merlin must be pretty deep in thought because she jumps when he touches her elbow. Rowan frowns to see the dampness on her cheeks, the pink of her eyes._ _

__“Mum?”_ _

__She sniffs and wipes her face, attempting a smile. “Rowan. I didn’t hear you come in.”_ _

__“Are you okay?”_ _

__“I’m worried,” She confides. “But all will be well soon enough.”_ _

__“We’re going to war, aren’t we? With Dad’s sister.”_ _

__“Yes. Morgana is…not as she used to be.”_ _

__“Kind?”_ _

__“Yeah. I miss who she once was.”_ _

__“I kind of…” He fidgets with his sleeve, unsure if he’ll be crossing a line. “I kind of wish I got to meet her. You know…before”_ _

__“Oh, sweetheart.” Merlin pats the chest and wraps her arm around Rowan’s shoulders when he sits down. “So do I. She would’ve loved to have nephews to spoil, a niece to teach.”_ _

__“Does she not love us now?”_ _

__“I’m…not sure she knows how to love anymore.”_ _

__“I don’t understand. Magic is allowed here, why does she hate us so much?”_ _

__“It’s complicated, but you have to know it's not you she hates. Your grandfather didn’t like magic and he did things that frightened Morgana. Sometimes, when a fear is so strong, it turns into hatred. Morgana was always a merciful person, but Uther’s actions were too much to forgive, too painful to forget.”_ _

__“Oh.”_ _

__“I don’t want you worrying about war, Ro. You’re far too young for that.”_ _

__“I’m nearly ten.” He grumbles._ _

__He has a sword for Gods’ sake, surely that counts for something. Everyone’s always saying that, ‘you’re too young’. He understands just as much as the adults do. He’s not some daft kid, neither is his brother. If anything, they hear more because people don’t think they’re listening._ _

__“Will you and Dad come back?”_ _

__“I hope so, baby. There are no guarantees in war."_ _

__“Not even for kings and queens?”_ _

__“Not even for kings and queens.” Merlin pulls Rowan closer and stamps a kiss to his hair._ _

__\- -_ _

__Maps blanket the round table. The war council has been in session for hours in light of disagreement. Most members think it wise to remain in Camelot, the castle as their greatest defence. In the end, it’s a majority vote that decides their path. Arthur drags a detailed map of the White Mountains closer and splays it over Camelot’s southern territories._ _

__“To reach Camelot, Morgana will have no choice but to cross the White Mountains. Now the only pass that gives passage to an army that size is here.”_ _

__Arthur jabs a leather-clad finger against the illustrations._ _

__“I know it well.” Percival says, arms folded. “The path is bounded by cliffs on either side.”_ _

__“That’s good. Enclosed like that, the dragons can make a sizeable dent in her army, it reduces scatter paths.”_ _

__Arthur nods at her, satisfied. “Then that’s where we will meet them. We may be outnumbered but if we don’t let them outflank us, then we can hold the pass.”_ _

__“How long?” Leon asks, doubtful. “Morgana has no care for the lives of her men.”_ _

__“Long enough.” Merlin assures. “Between Kilgharrah, Aithusa and me, we have more than enough power to counter her numbers.”_ _

__“You’re sure the dragons are reliable?”_ _

__“They cannot disobey me.”_ _

__“Percival,” Arthur starts. “At what point is the pass at its narrowest?”_ _

__“Here, sire.” Indicated with a finger. “A plain called Camlann.”_ _

__Arthur and Merlin share a look. Arthur’s mouth settles into a grim line, but his voice is determined._ _

__“Then it is at Camlann that we make our stand.”_ _

__\- -_ _

__They ready for battle at dawn. Destriers fill the courtyard, metal shoes biting at the cobblestones. Camelot’s banners lick through the air, mobilised by an agile breeze. The princes watch preparation from the crest of the stairs, the princess sitting comfortably against Rowan’s hip. Gwen stands behind them, face creased with worry._ _

__Merlin crushes her children in hugs, one by one, trying to memorise the feeling. While Arthur’s administering his own embraces, Merlin pulls Gwen into one._ _

__“Promise me you’ll look after them.” She whispers, content when Gwen nods into the hug. She turns back to the kids, anguished by the confused look her daughter wears._ _

__“I love you all so much.”_ _

__Someone calls her away, so with three more kisses, she turns and walks away from them. Arthur crouches so he’s eye level with them and smiles. Eleanor reaches out, so he pulls her into his chest, ignoring the clench of his heart when she snuggles into his neck._ _

__“You two look after your sister, okay?”_ _

__“We will, promise.” Alasdair vows, stepping closer. One arm goes around Eleanor, the other warm against Arthur’s neck. Rowan stays back and watches, but he launches forward when Arthur jerks his head._ _

__“You’re not too old for hugs, you know.”_ _

__Rowan huffs, smiling and blinking rapidly because he doesn’t want to cry. Arthur’s knows the feeling. He watched Uther leave more times than he could count, never sure if they’re see each other again. Arthur holds them all tight, the knowledge of his prophesied death heavy on his mind. Gwen sees that the men are ready and calls the kids back. Arthur rises, knee clicking as he does so. He knows that if he stays a second longer, the combined force of their puppy eyes will overpower him, so he turns to leave._ _

__“Father,” Arthur pauses, looking over his shoulder at Rowan. “I love you.”_ _

__“I love you too. All of you. Be good for Gwen.”_ _

__Then he’s mounting beside Merlin and kicking Llamrei into motion._ _

__\- -_ _

__Encampments are established at the mouth of Camlann. Merlin has no doubts that Morgana’s army lies at the other end. She stares down the valley, fringed by crumbling slate cliffs. Behind her, the ambient noises of camp sound. Kilgharrah and Aithusa rest beside the tents, mountains in their own right. The men had spooked at the sight of them, but calmed soon enough with Merlin's reassurance. If anything, having dragons rest by their camp renewed hope._ _

__Staring into the valley did nothing to abate the unease Merlin felt. The mood hangs low and bright, casting shadows onto the area. Soon, that lifeless rock plain will be wet with blood and loud with battle. Anxious, she turns away and returns to camp, winding through tents until the royal one comes into view. Merlin draws the flap aside and shivering when warmth hits her. Arthur sits by a table, locked on maps once more, fingers steepled before his lips. Merlin sheds her cloak and approaches._ _

__“What is it?”_ _

__“What if Sir Leon was right? Perhaps we should have made our stand at Camelot.”_ _

__“Your plan is brave…and bold…and our only chance to defeat Morgana once and for all. Yes, we could have held out in the citadel, but for how long? And at what cost to the kingdom? I have never for a moment doubted the valour and wisdom of this choice.”_ _

__Arthur stands to slowly make his way around the table, taking Merlin’s hands in his._ _

__“If you do not doubt me, Merlin, then that gives me a strength greater than any weapon.“_ _

__Merlin leans up to kiss him._ _

__“But if I’m to die here—“_ _

__“You will not.”_ _

__“If I’m to die here,” He repeats stubbornly. “Then I can die content knowing it is you who will lead our kingdom.”_ _

__Arthur reaches down to take off his signet ring. He pulls up Merlin’s hand and drops it into her palm. “Give this to Rowan when he’s of age, until then…it’s yours.”_ _

__“Arthur—“_ _

__“Just…take it. Please.”_ _

__Merlin about to say more when Leon rips the tent open with concerning urgency. “Sire. The scouts report that Morgana’s army is on the move.”_ _

__“Then she means to attack before the night’s out. Ready the men.”_ _

__That’s how Arthur and Merlin end up. Together, as they always are, before their people. Merlin wears not a dress, but armour. Behind them, Kilgharrah and Aithusa stand tall, symbols of power and hope. Camelot’s army stands proud and they stretch further than the eye can see. Called to arms, they await their king’s address._ _

__“Tonight…we do battle. Tonight, we end this war. We end a war as old as the land itself. A war against tyranny and greed…and spite. Not all will greet the dawn. Some will live. Some will die. But each and every one of you fights with honour…and with pride. For not only do we fight for our lives…we fight for the future. The future of Camelot. The future of Albion. The future of the United Kingdoms!”_ _

__Arthur lifts his sword, raising Excalibur high for all to see. “For the love of Camelot!”_ _

__The responding call echoes down the valley, and the dragon roar in unison, wings flaring. Living crests to match the golden dragons that sit on every man’s shoulder, powerful and undeniable. Their mighty breath curls in the cool night air, preempting the fire that is yet to come._ _

__\- -_ _

__They meet in the heart of Camlann. The clash of metal is deafening, the roar of men even more so. Merlin loses track of Morgana amidst the fray but she hasn’t the time to fret about it. Merlin loses track of time, can hardly focus on it when she's surrounded by enemy soliders. It's a combination of her sword and her magic that helps her navigate the battlefield. The cry of Saxon’s as they pour down from the cliffside distracts Merlin from her current opponent. After blasting them with raw magic, she gazes up and assesses their numbers. They must’ve found a hidden path._ _

__“Merlin!”_ _

__Arthur’s shout is barely audible over the clamouring, but she hears it and knows exactly what must be done. If those soliders make it down, they'll be outflanked and mortally outnumbered. Turning her head skyward, to where she knows the dragons circle above the clouds, she calls._ _

__“Drákous! Kaíne ta chéria!”_ _

__With roars that reverberate like thunder, Kilgharrah and Aithusa appear through the clouds. Panic spreads like wildfire through the Saxons at the sight of them, but there’s nowhere for them to run. The dragons show no mercy as they unhunde their jaws, fire igniting the rock as it spews out, two great walls of orange along the cliff lines. Men stand no chance against an attack like that, and Merlin sees more than one charred body fall from the edge._ _

__“Emrys!” The shout is venomous, booming, and Merlin turns to it’s source._ _

__Morgana, bloodied and dishevelled, stands among bodies. Overhead, the dragons roar, a sound that seems to command all soliders to disengage Both Saxon’s and Camelot’s knights cease fighting as though they sense the looming confrontation. The dragons land, one on each side of the gorge, and peer down at the battle below. Men give wide berth to the High Priestesses, clearing a circle around them save the bodies of the dead._ _

__“You’ve thwarted my plans for the last time.” Morgana spits, stalking forward._ _

__“Are you really so foolish as to fight me, old friend?”_ _

__“I’m a High Priestess.”_ _

__“As am I.”_ _

__“Then it’ll be all the more satisfying when I kill you.”_ _

__Morgana doesn’t waste a second. Her eyes glow molten, hand trusting out with the intent to stun, but Merlin has been trained all her life in magical combat. Quicker than Morgana can cast, an unbreakable shield climbs before her. Morgana’s spell deflects, bouncing back with twice the force and it sends her flying. She lands with a grunt._ _

__“You cannot win this war, Morgana.”_ _

__Morgana growls, something feral in her eyes as she stands, and she’s incanting again. The spell is long, complex, but Merlin recognises it well enough. There is nothing Morgana knows that she herself does not. Fire swirls into Morgana’s hand, spitting embers as it grows. With a shout, it propels toward Merlin._ _

__“Onċyrreþ!” Merlin shouts, hand outstretched._ _

__Morgana’s fireball splutters into nothing when it meets Merlin’s hand, voiding the attack entirely. Frustrated, Morgana begins slinging spell after spell, unrelenting and unwilling to give Merlin an opening. Merlin gets tired of deflecting from every angle, so she throws up a stronger shield. A swirling dome of blue light closes around her. Flagging, Morgana stops casting. She pants, eyes wild with hatred. Merlin makes the novice mistake of thinking she’s exhausted herself and the second her shield is lowered, pain blooms in her side._ _

__“Merlin!” Arthur. He sounds frantic but Merlin holds a hand up, hoping it’s enough to make him stay where he is._ _

__Gasping, Merlin looks down at the shaft that protrudes from her side. One of Morgana's henchmen must've fired. With every breath she feels it move, a sharpened tip tearing at muscle. The distraction costs her, for in time it takes her to blink, Morgana has slung a torrent of magic. It’s wraps around her, lifting her into the air and tossing her._ _

__The arrow snaps as she hits ground and Merlin can’t stop the cry that escapes at the impact. Coughing, she rolls onto hands and knees, breathing through the disorientation._ _

__“Not so mighty now, Emrys.”_ _

__Another spell hits, enough to blur her vision._ _

__“Where’s the witch of legend I’ve heard so much about?”_ _

__Morgana casts again and Merlin’s skin feels like it’s melting under the heat._ _

__“They called you my doom, but it seems I'll be yours.”_ _

__Merlin grits her teeth. She’s so done. Done with fighting, done with Morgana's arrogance and injustified hatred. With a grunt Merlin pushes to her feet on shaking legs. Anger pulses through her veins like liquid fire, a force so palpable shocks of electrify spark around her. They dance across her skin as Merlin approaches the flood gate._ _

__She’s never dared to tap into the well of power that lives within her. Part of her fears it, fears the destruction it could bring if she unleashes it but here, now, she’s never been more ready. Magic splinters the barrier she’s built, and power like she’s never felt rises within her. Merlin widens her stance, legs apart, hands spayed toward the earth. The power vibrates, bolts of energy growing into golden lightning that sparks across her skin. She’s vaguely aware of her flesh knitting itself together and the pain vanishes from her side._ _

__Morgana stares fearfully into Merlin’s eyes. They’re overcome with frost, colder than ice, and tears dance along the waterline._ _

__Merlin snarls, teeth bared with a ferocity none could predict. The blue of her eyes is consumed by gold, but it doesn’t stop there. Pupils and the very whites are overcome with magic, so much so that tiny bolts of gold lightning leap from her eyes. It’s harrowing. Everyone on the battlefield stares. The Saxon’s in terror, the knights in awe._ _

__“Gecynd éaðmódian mé!” Merlin’s voice is guttural, brimming with unrestrained power._ _

__She raises a hand to the sky, and a potent storm answers her call. Thunder cracks above them, and when Merlin pulls her hand down, she draws electricity from the sky. Kinetic bolts of power slam into the earth, striking the Saxons with unnatural accuracy. Atop the cliffs, the dragon roar._ _

__Merlin raises her arms until they’re spread either side and a lightning bolt rushes toward her, but she doesn’t falter. It strikes her head on, but it just crackles along her body, running down her arms and arching up from her palms. With her eyes smouldering like two suns, and gold lightning in her hands, she smiles. When Merlin slams her hands together in front of her, the lightning twists together, redirecting and heading straight for Morgana. The other witch tries to block it, but this is no spell, and she cannot block nature. The glowing bolt hits its mark with a resounding bang, and Morgana goes flying._ _

__“Beswelgan sé ferhþgeníðla!”_ _

__The earth trembles in response, bending to Merlin’s will. Great fissures open up and men scream as the earth swallows them whole. Some of them manage to catch themselves on the edge, scrambling for purchase. But Merlin isn’t here to grant mercy._ _

__“Adrencan eac þy hreóh!”_ _

__The men clutching to life are helpless against the torrent of rain that follows. Camelot’s men huddle around the bases of the cliffs, safe from the destruction being wrought. The storm above still crackles, booms with thunder that shakes the ground, and the rain Merlin summoned has slicked the dirt. Mud is impossible to hold, so the men that survived slip into oblivion, lost to the earth._ _

__Merlin looks like a goddess. Power crackling from her skin, dry despite the rain, eyes ablaze with magic. She doesn’t look human. She looks like Emrys._ _

__Morgana cowers as she approaches, pressing against the rocks as Merlin towers over her. The rain eases by Merlin’s grace, and the storm abates. Dawn peaks through the brightening clouds. The dragons watch from above, like Gods residing over a mortal court._ _

__“Do you yield?”_ _

__Morgana doesn’t speak, struck speechless by the power before her. The silence grates against Merlin’s temper. With a gesture, the rainwater that puddles Camlann rises, answering Merlin’s summons. It gathers around Morgana, hardening into lethal spikes of sharpened ice. Merlin growls, voice reverberating when she asks again._ _

___”Do you yield?”_ _ _

__“I yield.”_ _

__Merlin inclines her head, victorious. But Morgana wasn’t built to surrender._ _

__“Ástellan!”_ _

__A stray sword rises with intent. Merlin is too surprised to stop it as it flies, headed straight for Arthur. She can only watch, horrified, as it makes contact. Merlin screams. Her magic flares. The icicles jolt forward, crunching through Morgana’s flesh. The witch gasps, gurgling blood as the life drains from her eyes. She looks like a grotesque mockery of a mace._ _

__With Morgana dead, Merlin stumbled across the battlefield. She drops to her knees by Arthur’s side, pulling him into her lap. Merlin has no care for her own wound as Arthur grunts, face contorted in pain._ _

__“No, no, no, no…”_ _

__Merlin sobs, tears lost in the rain. Arthur reaches up and sets his hand against her cheek._ _

__“It’s okay.”_ _

__“No.”_ _

__Merlin’s focus is on Arthur, but when see hears all the knights shuffle back, she turns around. Kilgharrah and Aithusa, close enough that she can feel the warmth coming off of them._ _

__“Please…” She sobs. “Please, there must be something I can do…”_ _

__Kilgharrah shakes his head. Arthur shivers against her, face rapidly losing colour. But he smiles like everything’s going to be okay. Merlin pulls him closer and rests her forehead against his._ _

__“Stay with me, please.”_ _

__“Merlin…”_ _

__“No, no. Don’t say goodbye, don’t you dare. You can’t leave me.”_ _

__“Not goodbye,” Arthur coughs, voice rough. “Just…I love you.”_ _

__“I love you too.” Merlin whispers, overcome with emotion. This couldn’t be happening._ _

__Arthur didn’t want to say goodbye. But he’s experienced enough battle wounds to recognise the severity of his own. If the uncomfortable warmth beneath his skin was anything to judge, then he was probably bleeding inside. He stares into Merlin’s eyes, aching at the despair he find in a blue that should be filled with happiness. There’s still a gold ring around her pupils, tiny little lines reaching out from it. Arthur likes to think she caught some lightning in her eyes._ _

__Beautiful, and a sight he was happy to be his last._ _

__\- -_ _

__“Take me to Avalon.”_ _

__Kilgharrah doesn’t argue. Merlin leaves Leon in charge of the army as she climbs up onto the dragon’s neck. Aithusa gently cradles Arthur’s body in her claws, chittering sadly as she lifts into the sky. As they fly, fierce determination pushes aside Merlin’s grief. She has a plan, she just prays to every deity that it works. When the dragons land on Avalon’s shores, Merlin isn’t entirely surprised to see the Sidhe court waiting. The lake glints with the morning sun, peaceful and calm save for the blue faeries hovering above._ _

__“Emrys.”_ _

__“Oxelus.”_ _

__The Sidhe King tips his head in acknowledgement. They’ve had dealings in the past, none of them have been pleasant but there’s a level of respect between them._ _

__“I’ve come to ask a favour.”_ _

__“Favours come with a price, Emrys.”_ _

__“I know.”_ _

__Merlin beckons Aithusa, who gently lays Arthur down at the water’s edge. Merlin may be powerful, but she cannot perform magic like this on her own. Heavy hearted, she kneels to stroke Arthur’s cheek._ _

__“I want you to restore his life.”_ _

__“That is no small favour, Emrys. What do you offer in return?”_ _

__“My immortality.”_ _

__“Valuable indeed.” Oxelus says with jubilance, hunger in his eyes._ _

__“Will you do it?”_ _

__“You offer a life for a life. The deal is struck.”_ _

__Oxelus flutters closer, growing until he matches Merlin for size. He presents a hand, which Merlin takes readily. With their free hands, they press on either side of Arthur’s head. In harmony, they begin the spell._ _

__“Behwearft. Edníwian. Edcierr deaþlicnes æt Arthur Pendragon eac Ǽmrys ælíf.”_ _

__“Behwearft. Edníwian. Edcierr deaþlicnes æt Arthur Pendragon eac Ǽmrys ælíf.”_ _

__“Behwearft. Edníwian. Edcierr deaþlicnes æt Arthur Pendragon eac Ǽmrys ælíf.”_ _

__Nothing happens outwardly, but then he’s breathing, sucking in a breath and flushing with colour and Merlin can’t possibly mourn what she’s lost if it means she has Arthur back. The Sidhe retreat. Merlin cries. Arthur breaths._ _

__“It seems you are greater than destiny, after all.” Kilgharrah says, sounding prouder than Merlin’s ever heard him before. “The price was high, I must congratulate you on your new title.”_ _

__Kilgharrah bends into a bow, mighty wings stretching to half mast. He dips low, front legs folded to lend significance to his reverence. Aithusa mirrors the posture, and as the sun reemerges from behind a cloud, the sunlight sparkles against her opal scales. It glistens against Kilgharrah’s bronzed gold, twinkles across the water, warms her skin. When Kilgharrah speaks, he announces her to all of Albion._ _

__“The Once and Future Queen.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original Spells:
> 
> “Behwierfedon scytel” = "Change the balanc"
> 
> “Cnyttan, edcwician deaþlicnes beódland endedéað” = "Bind death to life, restore this mortal body"
> 
> “Drákous! Kaíne ta chéria!” = "Dragons! Burn the flanks"
> 
> “Onċyrreþ!” = "Revert"
> 
> “Gecynd éaðmódian mé!” = "Nature obey me""
> 
> “Beswelgan sé ferhþgeníðla!” = "Swallow the enemy"
> 
> “Adrencan eac þy hreóh!” = "Drown with the storm"
> 
> “Behwearft. Edníwian. Edcierr deaþlicnes æt Arthur Pendragon eac Ǽmrys ælíf.” = "Exchange. Restore. Return mortality to Arthur Pendragon with Emrys’ eternal life"


End file.
